Before We Say Goodbye
by The Lonely Goatherd
Summary: There’s a reason Ned doesn’t touch Olive. When Olive became an employee at The Pie Hole, neither Ned nor Olive could predict how their lives would change. A prequel, of sorts, that looks at life at The Pie Hole before the series begins.
1. Chapter One: Pi and Pie

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pushing Daisies. Wish I did though, 'cause that would be amazing.

**Author's Note:** With winter break upon us, I find myself writing another Daisies fanfic. Thanks to ma friend April for bringing up the idea and letting me run with it. Enjoy!

**Summary: **There's a reason Ned doesn't touch Olive. When Olive became an employee at The Pie Hole, neither Ned nor Olive could predict how their lives would change. A prequel, of sorts, that looks at life at The Pie Hole before the series begins.

**

* * *

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**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter One: Pi and Pie**

Olive Snook, twenty seven years, three months, two weeks, and five days old, is, at this very moment lonely. A renowned jockey, Olive finds herself horseless. The recent loss of her beloved horse The Pi, so named for the great horse in _National Velvet_, has left Olive with a broken heart and a broken spirit. Though she could have easily become the world's greatest jockey, Olive has decided to hang her reigns up for good.

And so we find Olive, sniffling and shuffling down a busy street; not seeing nor caring about the people she ran into. For, she reasoned, what is a world without her beloved Pi?

"No world at all," Olive answered her own rhetorical question, as she stepped into the street, narrowly avoiding the cars that sped by. With no destination in mind Olive stepped onto the pavement and continued east.

She supposed that she really did have a destination, though at this moment she didn't know quite where that destination was. A saddened and heartbroken Olive often meant a hungry one, and hungry she was. Her appetite, however, had yet to be sated as the aromas she had already encountered from the restaurants she had passed left her nauseous.

As if the universe was keeping an eye on poor Olive, a sweet aroma of sweetness greeted Olive's nose; arriving perfectly on cue.

It was unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Sweet and savory. Perhaps a little bit tangy with a flaky undertone. Warm and comforting. It was homey and perfect. It was, Olive knew, pie.

Olive paused in her tracks, looking up to find herself standing before a quaint corner restaurant, with a golden pie crust roof. She backed away a few steps, ending in the street to read the restaurants' name. The Pie Hole.

"As in shut your," Olvie whispered with a smile. A great lover of all things pie, and feeling it would be a great tribute to her late Pi, Olive needed no further encouragement to walk inside.

* * *

If it was the remnant, wafting smells that caught Olive's attention; it was the succulent smell inside The Pie Hole that made her mouth water. It was the smell of perfection and Olive quickly felt her spirits rise. She hastily made way for the counter, knocking over another patron to grab a seat at the counter, one of the few remaining seats in the busy establishment.

"Be with you in a minute" a deep, flustered voice spoke behind her.

Olive turned to see a tall man rushing away from her, four plates of pie in his hand. He clumsily set the plates on four different tables. Olive had to stile a laugh as he nearly tripped on his way back to the counter, stopping when he was directly opposite Olive.

"What can I get you?" He asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

Olive opened her mouth to respond, but felt the words fail her. The world around her suddenly disappeared, fading into darkness as a single light settled on the man before her.

His dark hair was frazzled and his eyes were wide, clearly overwhelmed. Spots of flour covered his face and hair, but Olive was certain she had never seen anything more wonder in her entire life.

"Um, hello?"

His voice snapped Olive back to reality. His head was tilted; his face showing as much concern as someone who is barely even an acquaintance can hold.

"Hiya," Olive replied, dreamily, through a smile. "Pretty busy place you've got here."

"Yeah," replied the man, filling a coffee mug with the hot dink and sending it down the counter with a small push to a waiting customer.

"Where's the help?"

"Just me."

"Boss decide to leave you alone for the day to go play a game of golf?" Olive asked, running her fingers across the counter.

A crooked smile covered his face, making Olive's smile widen. "I am the boss, sadly abandoned by my only waitress who wanted to move on to bigger and better things."

"Bigger and better than this?"

"A diner that serves more than pie."

"Now, who would want to do that?" Olive asked.

The man let out a small laugh that cold hardly be classified as such. "Good question. Can I get you anything?"

The question reminded Olive of why she had entered the diner in the first place. "A piece of pie."

"Any kind in mind?"?

Olive paused, having not looked at a menu and knowing it would end the conversation she was very much enjoying. "Which do you recommend?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I've got a peach about ready to come out of the oven," he replied, distracted as he picked up used dishes and a paid bill off the counter. The empty spot was quickly filled by another customer. Olive could tell that the seemingly normal sign of good business was, at this very moment, not good for The Pie Hole owner; as he let out a near undetectable sigh.

"Peach it is, then," Olive said.

The pie baker smiled, almost greatfully, and nodded. "Be right back." He said, before disappearing into the kitchen. Olive watched him walk away; keeping her eye on him through the window that opened the kitchen to the main room.

He was shy, that much Olive could tell. But not in a bad way; in a way that made him gentlemanly without being overly chivalrous. She supposed he had a sense of humor, in a quiet way. He was strong, she could see, from his broad shoulders and muscles that subtly flexed as her rolled out dough. He was manly, with a boyish charm and Olive knew she was in trouble by the way her heart seemed to stop when he scratched his shoulder, trying to find an ingredient and unknowing smearing flour on his shirt.

"Hey, how about some service out here?!" someone yelled from a booth. The pie baker jumped, dropping a measuring cup in surprise. Olive turned in her seat sending a glare to the irate customer before jumping off her seat and walking to the kitchen doorway.

"Want some help?" she asked, sticking her head into the kitchen.

The pie man jumped again and whirled around the face Olive.

"Wha?" he sputtered, obviously confused.

"You're far to busy for one person to handle, so I'm offering my help."

"I can't ask you to do that," he said, deferring the offer.

"Then it's a good thing you're not asking."

"I don't know." Pie man said, obviously becoming uncomfortable and torn between needing the help and letting a stranger do so.

Olive noted, however, that with his lack of comfort came a quirky charm. She felt her stomach flip.

"I promise I won't be of any trouble. You bake the pies while I handle the coffee and the people."

"I-well-do you, um, have any waitress experience?"

Olive paused, almost defeated, "Well, no, but really how hard can it be?"

As Olive spoke the bell above the door welcomed an influx of new customers, pushing the diner's fire hazard-safety limit to its max.

Before the last customer was seated Olive knew she had won by the look of defeat that crossed pie man's face.

"Okay," he said, nodding.

Olive flashed him a bright smile, receiving something of a mix between a smile and a nervous grimace. She grabbed a nearby apron from its hanger on the wall and tied it around her waist.

"There's a pad of paper and a pen under the front counter if you need it," Pie Maker said, returning to his pie making, more lax than he had been before. "Just-uh-let me know if you have any questions.

"Righto," Olive replied with a small salute before turning and all but bounding to the counter.

Yes, Olive Snook knew she was in trouble; for, it seemed that in the mere minutes she had known this man she was clearly taken with him. And Olive knew that the only way to become un-taken with him was to take him before anyone else did.

* * *

The question: "How hard can it be?" turned out to be harder than Olive Snook had thought.

Olive had raced horses for years, fed them and worked with them. She was used to the fast paced feel of flying down the race track. But nothing, not all the training in the world, could have prepared Olive Snook for the onslaught of hungry, pie craving customers she had encountered in her afternoon at The Pie Hole. From the minute she had tied the apron around her neck, until this very minute, Olive had been on her feet; taking orders, pouring coffee, slicing pie and serving it.

She groaned at the thought of what her day had consisted and felt her head drop forward, landing lightly on the counter she sat at. Behind her a click sounded and Olive new the owner of the fine establishment she had worked at all afternoon had closed the doors for the night.

The squeak of shoes sounded movement and Olive rolled her head to the side to see Pie Man walk by her, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. Keeping her head on the table Olive let out a huff of air, trying to move a stray piece of hair out of her face.

A moment later Pie Man returned, setting a plate of the sweetest smelling pie Olive had ever smelt before her.

"I—um, figure I still owe you a piece of peach pie," Pie Man said, rocking back on his heels.

Olive sat up, feeling her stomach grumble at the thought of the slice of pie she had ordered hours before. "Thanks," she said, smiling.

The man before her nodded, "You're welcome. Just—uh, feel free to stay and I eat, I'm going to clean up."

"Want some help?" Olive asked.

He shook his head, "No," he said quickly, "You've helped enough already."

The words came out rushed and almost defensive making Olive feel her spirits deflate. But Pie Man must have realized how he sounded for he quickly became flustered and began to ramble.

"Not that that's a bad thing. It's just, you know, you didn't really—have to. And I, appreciate it. But I can, you know, um---clean up my own mess while you rest." His intonation at the end of the sentence turned the statement into an uncertain question. He let out a nervous laugh.

Olive giggled and smiled around a bite of pie. Her eyes widened and she nearly swallowed the piece of treat whole, gasping for breath when she was done. "This is delicious!" she exclaimed, probably louder than she should have.

Pie Man turned just in time to see Olive shovel another forkful into her mouth. "Thanks," he said, smiling.

"So tell me," Olive said, cutting the remnants of her pie piece into small pieces. "How does one come to own a pie diner?"

Pie Man, who had been setting chairs on the tables, froze, holding a chair in the air. "Um—family business," he finally said, clumsily letting the chair fall to the table.

"And a delicious family business at that," Olive replied, finishing off the last of her pie.

Pie Man smiled, albeit awkwardly, again and nodded; continuing to clean up his restaurant.

"Well," Olive said, breaking a silence that had engulfed them. "I guess that's that." She jumped down from the stool she sat on and untied the apron from around her waist. She threw it on the counter and turned to the man before her. He put the last chair on the last table and turned, facing Olive. "Thanks for the pie."

"You're welcome. Thanks for the help—um…?"

"Olive."

Pie Man smiled and nodded. "Thanks for the help Olive."

"You're welcome--."

"Ned."

The two stared at one another, Olive smiling brightly as she swayed slightly while Ned, once again, stuffed his hands in his pockets.

After a moment, Ned nodded and walked to the door, unlocking it and holding it open for Olive. "Right." Olive murmured under her breath. She walked to the door and paused. "Good night."

"Good night," Ned replied with yet another nod.

With a quiet sigh Olive walked through the door and paused, staring out into the dark street. "You know!" she said, suddenly turning back around. Ned paused, door to The Pie Hole half open.

"Yes?"

Olive quickly walked back to the door, leaning against the frame. It was the first time all day Olive had actually stood close to the man she now knew as Ned and she suddenly realized how tall he was. Her neck was craned back, almost having to stare straight up while he looked straight down. She cursed under her breath, wishing she had worn heels.

"Well, you said that you recently lost your waitress."

Ned nodded and Olive was certain it was a habit he had when he didn't know what else to do."

"_And_," Olive continued. "It just so happens that I'm recently unemployed. Maybe we can join forces, seemed to work pretty well together today."

There was silence and a pause and Olive watched as Ned became more uncomfortable by the minute. She waited, smiling. When she still didn't get a response she tilted her head to the side, trying to coax a response from him.

Ned finally opened his mouth and closed his mouth, reminding Olive of a fish out of water. "Um—well, I—I don't know if that is, um--."

Though he couldn't get a sentence out, Olive knew where his mind was going. "Darlin' you couldn't exactly handle the mob today by yourself. I think you need some help. I'm not the greatest baker, but I can serve the people while bake."

"It's—um, not that busy everyday," Ned finally stuttered. His eye twitched. "Really, thank you for the offer, but I'll be okay."

Olive felt the wind leave her, deflated. "You're sure?"

Ned nodded. "Yes. Thank you for your help today, Olive, good night."

Before Olive could open her mouth, the door was closed and she was left alone outside. "Goodnight Ned," she whispered to the empty air. With a sigh Olive turned and began her trek home.

* * *

A week later and Olive Snook was still horseless, and essentially, unemployed. Though she lived on the outskirts of the city, she had taken to driving into the heart of town during the day. Quite a few times she had almost entered The Pie Hole again, but had found herself stopping short, unable to make herself go in. And though she could not bring herself enter the quaint diner she found herself thinking of the diner's owner more and more.

Ned had seemed to make a permanent spot in her mind, clearing her of all other thought. He was like a plague, but a good plague. The one that you didn't want to go away. And so, attacked by such a good plague Olive found herself frustrated at not being able to walk into The Pie Hole once again.

She blamed it on the pie. Though it had been good pie, she just wasn't, at this moment, in a pie eating mood. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

Once again exploring the city for a job or anything she could muster, skillfully avoiding The Pie Hole (because she wasn't in the mood for pie) Olive now finds herself at the Worldly Famous World Market.

The tents of the market were large and white, spanning across two near parks and an empty parking lot. The booths were filled of all things, from clothes and jewelry to knick knacks and paddy whacks and to food and drink; all from around the world.

Always looking for new foods to try, Olive, at this very moment, stood in front of a booth filled with fruits of different shapes and sizes, most being ones she had never seen before. The woman behind the booth was robust and large, with a glare permanently creasing her brows. Olive smiled at her and the woman grunted in response. Aware of the watchful eye on her, Olive picked up the first fruit she saw, examining it.

It was purple and lumpy, with a single giant leaf sticking out of it. Olive shook it, but nothing happened. She sniffed at it, but smelled nothing. She frowned.

"What is this?" She asked the woman across from her.

The woman's eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit, though her frown stayed in place, and she quickly started rambling in a language that made Olive's head spin. She was certain it was a language the woman was making up, a cross between Spanish and French and German and maybe even a little Pig Latin thrown in. GerenchSpigLatin, Olive decided.

The woman stopped talking and waited for Olive to respond, her eyes wide. Olive smiled, not knowing what else to do. The woman grumped and looked away, turning her attention to another customer.

"Well fine," Olive said, weighing the fruit in her hands.

From behind her, someone laughed. "It's a sweetsop."

Olive yelped and jumped at the voice, surprised; the fruit flew from her hands, landing someone behind her. The person laughed again.

She turned, clutching at her speeding heart to see Ned standing behind her, holding the fruit she had just thrown. He smiled.

"Hi, Olive."

"Ned!" Olive gasped, "You scared me!"

He let out a small laugh and smiled. "Sorry, didn't mean to," he said. There was a bark from his side and Olive turned to see a dog sitting next to Ned. Olive was not very good when it came to dog breeds, but at the moment it didn't matter. The dog was beautiful, and that's all there was to it.

"Who's this?" Olive asked, bending slightly to scratch the dogs ears.

"This is Digby."

"He's beautiful."

"Thank you."

"How long have you had him?"

Ned paused and he shifted uncomfortably. "A while."

Olive nodded and a silence fell between them.

"So, what are you doing here?" Olive asked, trying to slow her beating heart, but at the sight of the man that had occupied her thoughts for a week, Olive was certain it had sped up even more.

Ned held up a bag he was holding. "When ever the market is in town I stock up on fruits you can't get at the grocery store."

Olive nodded. "Well that makes sense."

"What, um, about you?"

"Oh, I was--," Olive trailed. "You know, just exploring. I've never been to the market before and it looked interesting. And so did these fruits and now here we are."

"Oh, right," he said, holding out the fruit Olive had thrown.

"Thanks," she said, taking the fruit and blushing. "What did you say it was?"

Ned smiled. "Sweetsop. Some people call it Sugar Apple."

"Oh," Olive said, holding the fruit before her and examining it again.

"I've been trying to turn it into a pie for quite some time, now."

"You haven't been successful?"

Ned shrugged, "Just can't seem to get the right flavors."

Olive thought for a second. "Have you tried cinnamon?"

"Cinnamon?" Ned asked.

"Yes, cinnamon. You know that little brown stuff, you sprinkle on things. Kind of sweet and bitter?"

Ned laughed. "Why cinnamon though?"

Olive shrugged. "I don't know, because it's a key ingredient in most desserts?"

"I thought you said you don't bake."

Olive felt her heart flutter at the thought that Ned had remembered something she had said. "Well, I don't really. But," Olive said, drawing out the word, "It _is_ cinnamon. You can't go wrong."

Ned smiled. "You make a point. But I, have to go."

Olive nodded, tossing the sugar apple between her hands. "Bye Ned."

"Bye, Olive. It was uh—nice seeing you again." With a nod and a smile, Ned walked away, Digby trotting along behind him, Olive noted, without a leash.

Olive watched him leave until he disappeared from sight. With a smile, she turned and bought three sugar apples.

* * *

Later that night, Ned the Pie Maker was busy at work. Like he did every time The Worldly Famous World Market was in town, he stayed up late trying to new recipes in hopes of finding a new pie to introduce to the world via is restaurant.

It was, like usual, going fine until he got to the sugar apple. He had bought three earlier that day, and the first two pies had turned out awful. He had gagged on the first and was certain the second was about to jump to life and concur the world.

He stood, staring down the last sweet apple, trying to pull the right recipe he needed out of it. "What do you think Digby?" He asked, turning to the dog who was lying nearby.

Digby lifted his head and barked once before resuming his relaxed position.

"Right," Ned replied, turning back to the sugar apple.

He sighed before leaning forward, resting his arms on the counter. He looked around his kitchen, trying to find inspiration somewhere else. His eyes roamed the room before he paused, his eyes landing on a single ingredient. Cinnamon.

Ned's mouth twitched and her brow furrowed. Not knowing what else to do, he retrieved the ingredient and began to bake.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Ned sat, taking the last bite of the latest Sugar Apple Pie. He hadn't meant to eat it all. Once slice led to another, then another and before Ned realized it he was on the last bite.

It was unbelievable, really. He had never tasted anything like it. Sweet and savory, but a little bit bitter. It was warm. It was perfect. Olive had been right; all it took was a little bit of cinnamon. That tiny brown stuff you sprinkle on things. Kind of sweet and kind of bitter.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I don't know when I'll update again. But I hope it's soon!

Thanks for reading!

Until next time!


	2. Chapter Two: I am Waitress Hear Me Roar

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pushing Daisies. Would be ever so amazing if I did, though.

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Two: I Am Waitress…Hear Me Roar**

At this exact moment, racing down a track at full speed, Olive Snook was riding a horse. She smiled, letting the wind whip past her, nipping at her nose and cheeks. There was nothing like riding, she knew. The free feeling could compete with nothing.

She slowed the horse, easing him to a steady gallop before stopping altogether.

"Easy there, Olive."

"I know how to dismount a horse, Frederick."

Frederick Johann laughed, eyeing Olive as she dismounted the horse she had been riding. "I didn't mean to deny that you did. You just seem—off."

Olive Snook sighed, turning to the horse she had been riding as she pulled off her gloves. "Ponyboy is beautiful, but he's no Pi," she said, sadly, taking off her helmet and goggles.

"A little more practice and the two of you would be a great team," Frederick reasoned, grabbing a hold of Ponyboy's reigns and guiding him to the stables. Olive followed.

"Maybe, but—,"

"It isn't the same?"

Olive smiled sadly and nodded. "No, it isn't."

"You're grieving, that's understandable. But you can't give up for good, Olive."

"Frederick, you know this would have ended one day. Might as well move on now before I'm unable to."

Frederick frowned, readying Ponyboy for a brush down. The horse neighed as Olive placed her hand lightly on his neck. "Olive, you could be the best yet."

"I'm sorry, Frederick, but the answer is still no." Olive walked to shelving near by and grabbed some carrots, before turning back and feeding them to Ponyboy. The horse neighed in happy response.

"So what now?"

Olive shrugged, petting Ponyboy's neck. "I'm craving something different, that's all."

"And what, pray tell are you craving?" Frederick Johann asked, watching as one of the best riders he had ever seen cared for the horse before her.

Olive thought, watching as Ponyboy ate the carrot out of her hand. What _was_ she craving? Something different. Something away from horses and the stables, but something that would still ring home. Olive sighed and smiled, knowing the answer before it even entered her mind. She patted Ponyboy's neck one more time, before turning to Frederick and responding with a one word answer: "Pie."

* * *

Olive Snook stood outside the confection-filled establishment known as The Pie Hole. She rubbed her hands together, daring herself to go in. She wanted nothing more to go in and enjoy a piece of pie, and maybe even the Pie Maker, Ned's company, if only for a brief second. But for reasons unknown to herself, she felt embarrassed.

She reasoned to blame it on their last encounter. "Cinnamon," she muttered to herself, chastising lightly. "Who tells a baker what to bake? Stupid, stupid." She sighed and stared at the open sign, knowing she was being silly.

At that moment, a gust of wind decided to blow through the air, catching Olive off balance. She righted, herself, pushing her long hair behind her ears. "Buck it up, Snook," she told herself. "You're being dumb."

With a nod of confidence Olive opened the doors and walked in.

The bell rang, signaling to the restaurant that Olive had entered. But, Olive did not hear the dinging or the click of the door shutting. All she heard was the sound of her own jaw hitting the floor, stunned by the sight before her.

Customers were everywhere, crowding the place with their irate customer-ness. People seemed to pour out of the booths in droves as children danced between the tables. Calls for coffee and assistance rang through the air but the Pie Maker Olive had come to know as Ned was no where in sight.

Treading carefully, as if stalking a wild animal, Olive walked into the room, nearly dancing across the floor as she avoided running into people. She walked to the kitchen doorway, a trek that took longer than it really should have, and peered inside.

Ned was at the counter, alternating between furiously rolling out dough, cutting fruit, and manning the oven. His hair was askew and his face was dazed, making him look more frazzled than he had been the first time they had met. His eyes shown with pure horror as he tried to keep up with the circus that had somehow evolved in this restaurant.

Ned's dog Digby sat nearby, perfectly still with his head tilted to the side as he watched his owner. At the sound of Olive's approach Digby turned, looking at the newcomer. He barked once, his tail beginning to wag.

At the bark Ned jumped, turning to see what had caught his dog's attention. His look of shock intensified at the sight of Olive in the kitchen doorway.

Olive smiled. Without saying a word set her purse on a shelf in the kitchen and picked up the stray apron that hung on the wall. She winked and turned, walking into the dining area as she tied the apron around her waist.

In the kitchen Ned, the Pie Maker, all but collapsed as half of his stress was taken away by the petite woman who was now running his main room.

* * *

Olive Snook untied the apron she wore and placed it on the counter before her. She stretched her arms back, loosening the tight muscles, only to startle herself when she hit a form behind her. Someone gave an "oof" as she whirled, to see who she had inadvertently hit.

Ned stood before her, a surprised look on his face from being hit, with a pie filled plate in his hand.

"Sorry," Olive said, quietly. She shifted awkwardly, "sorry" she snorted to herself. Not exactly the best first word to say in the day. They had been so busy serving and baking pie, the two had yet to say a word to one another. But now the front door displayed the Closed sign and the two were left alone.

Ned smiled shyly and thrust the plate of pie forward. "I thought you might be hungry."

As if to prove a point Olive had been unaware of, her stomach made a low rumbling sound. She blushed and took the proffered treat. "Thanks," she said, feeling herself blush slightly.

Ned nodded before turning and begging to clean up. Olive watched the pie baker sweeping for a minute before turning back to the counter to sit. She took a bite of the pie and felt her entire body melt. Even better then the piece she had had before, Olive Snook was certain this particular piece of pie had led her straight to heaven.

She meant to make a comment, to compliment Ned on a job well done, but the words failed her as a pie induced trance took over her. And before she knew it, the pie was gone.

She sighed as the last bit of crumbs disappeared on her lips, relishing in the taste for a few seconds longer. When she was satisfied, she turned on her seat, facing Ned.

"I do believe that was the best piece of pie I've ever had," she said, jumping off the stool. She grabbed the apron she had used off the counter and went to the kitchen, swapping the apron for her purse.

"Thank you," Ned spoke after her. "I thought you might like it."

Olive nodded, walking towards the door. "It was perfect."

The two stood, facing one another; Olive waiting for Ned to say something, anything else. After a moment's silence, Ned shifted awkwardly and coughed. "Well, thank you for your help, again."

Olive inwardly sighed but smiled, not exactly the sentiment she had been looking for. "Of course. Goodnight Ned."

"Bye, Olive," he replied with a nod before continuing to sweep.

Olive exhaled slowly; frustrated with being unable to hold the Pie Maker's attention for more than a small amount of time. She carefully walked to the door, watching Ned out of the corner of her eye, coming to realize he was more than unaware that she was still there. Finally, she reached The Pie Hole door. She unlocked it, shooting one more quick glance at Ned as she did so. When she received no more acknowledgement she turned and open the door; only to have a quiet voice stop her.

"You were right, you know."

Olive paused, feeling herself smile when Ned spoke. She bit her bottom lip before turning, her face turning to one of intrigue as she faced The Pie Maker. "About?"

"All it needed was a little cinnamon," was Ned's shy reply.

Olive shot a glance to the counter, where her empty sat, before turning back to Ned. She was certain that a faint blush covered his cheeks at that moment, and she felt her entire body melt with warmth at the sight.

"Was that, the--."

"Sugar apple."

"Pie?"

Ned nodded, smiling slightly. "I took your advice and it worked."

Olive smiled a wide smile that nearly covered her whole face. "Looks like I'm better at baking than I thought."

Ned let out a small laugh, before scratching the back of his neck. "You know, I was thinking. Well, I. See I don't just hire people off the street," he said, looking at Olive with his head titled to the side. "Not that you're off the street, or anything," he added quickly and awkwardly. Olive laughed. "I just—um, that is...if you were still looking for a job, I was thinking, maybe we could have an interview. That is if---I---you are still looking for a job?"

Olive curled her lips over her teeth, trying to keep from laughing at Ned's rushed and awkward ramble. She felt her heart lift at the job, or interview, offer. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and took a slow, deliberate step forward. "An interview would be perfect."

Ned smiled, an odd, relieved sound, escaping his lips.

"When should we schedule?" Olive asked, taking another step forward.

"Well, I suppose we could," Ned paused, looking around. "Now?"

Olive smiled. "Even more perfect."

Ned nodded and set down the broom he had been sweeping with. He pulled out a chair and Olive walked forward, fully preparing to sit in the chair this man had obviously pulled out for her. She nearly tripped when Ned sat down in the seat, clasping his hands together on the table as he waited for Olive to join him. Never one to falter, Olive quickly recovered and sat in the vacant seat across from him.

The two stared at one another. Olive waited for Ned to begin the interview, but grew impatient when he didn't. "Well, you already know I'm a good worker," she said.

Ned nodded and smiled. "Um—what was your last job?"

Olive Snook froze. Though she was proud of her last profession, she hardly spoke of it to people outside of the racing circle; as the response she garnered was usually one of laughter. She also felt a pang of grief shoot through her at the loss of her beloved Pi. "I worked…at the tracks," she spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. She felt bad, knowing that lying wasn't the best of ways to start off, but then again, she reasoned, she wasn't _exactly_ lying. She just wasn't telling the whole truth.

"The horse track outside of town?" Ned asked, breaking Olive's thoughts.

Olive nodded.

"What did you do?"

Olive waved her hand. "Oh all sorts of things. I worked with the horses mainly."

"What made you leave?"

Olive felt a pang of sadness run through her. Her poor Pi. "Just time to move on."

The information must have been enough for The Pie Maker for he nodded, letting the subject drop. "Um…" the Pie Maker's voice trailed as he thought of his next question to ask. Eventually, Olive noticed, his thought seemed to stop and he shrugged.

"Want to know anything else? Maybe about my dark, secret past? Or my criminal record?" Olive joked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, trying to keep the conversation going.

Ned blanched. "_Do _you have a criminal record?"

Olive quickly moved forward, leaning across the table. "I once was involved in an armed robbery…" she said in a dangerously low voice. "While blindfolded."

Ned's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. It would be the first time Olive Snook realized that The Pie Maker was a gullible one.

Olive sat back, a lopsided smile covering her face. "It was a joke, Ned."

Ned shut his mouth and gulped nodding and laughing awkwardly. "Right."

"So, anymore questions?" Olive asked again, resting her chin in her palm.

"No, I suppose that's—that's it."

"Great!" Olive said, standing quickly, making Ned jump. "Do I get the job?"

Ned stood, holding his right hand out to Olive. "Be here at eight tomorrow morning."

Olive smiled, trying to ignore how her heart sped as she placed her hand in The Pie Maker's. "Eight o'clock sharp."

* * *

It was the first day Olive Snook worked at The Pie Hole.

Olive and her newest employer stood behind the counter of the restaurant, both leaning forward; staring at the double doors.

"It's funny," Olive said, looking over and up to Ned.

"Is it?" He asked, trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice.

"Well, it is, really. The days that I've helped you, you've been busier than a monkey in a banana factory."

"I don't think there is such a thing as a banana factory."

"But let the point be made that you were busy," Olive replied. "And now that you've actually hired me, there isn't anyone here." Olive let out a sound that was something between a snort-giggle as Ned sighed, his head dropping forward.

Olive turned, hoisting herself up onto the counter. She swung her legs, pursing and un-pursing her lips in an effort for something to do. "So what now?"

Ned sighed and turned towards his new employee. "You said you aren't the greatest baker?"

Olive smiled, feeling her stomach flip at the thought that Ned had remembered something she had said almost two weeks prior. She nodded vigorously.

Ned tilted his head towards the kitchen before he began to walk that way. "Come on, I'll teach you."

"Really?" Olive asked, jumping off the counter and shuffling after The Pie Maker.

Ned paused in the kitchen door way and turned, smiling slightly. "Who knows, maybe some day I'll come down with a deadly virus and you'll have to run this place by yourself."

Olive smiled, _Someday_ she thought, all but skipping into the kitchen.

* * *

Olive Snook bit her tongue.

As carefully as she could, she moving her fingers around the edge of the pie crust before her, trying to shape it like Ned had showed her. The thought of The Pie Maker made Olive pause and smile. Surreptitiously, she left the pie crust to peek around the pillar of the kitchen, peering into the dining room where Ned was taking care of a few customers that had finally arrived.

Mere minutes before he had been carefully showing her how to bake a Georgia Peach Pie; guiding her through the steps as if he were talking to a child. He spoke slowly and Olive found herself trying to urge him to move the instructions along, after all she wasn't stupid. But at the same time, it was enduring; watching him speak and instruct about something that Olive had quickly come to realize was the center of his life.

When the few customers that had entered the restaurant arrived Olive had prepared to leave the kitchen and take care of them. But Ned had stopped her, insisting that she stay and practice while he tended to the few patrons.

She smiled and bit her lip, watching as Ned poured coffee for an elderly couple in a booth. He laughed at something they said.

Olive's thoughts were interrupted by something nudging her hand. She jumped and looked down to see Digby at her feet, looking at her expectantly; tail wagging.

"Hiya Digby," she said to the dog. She shot one more glance back into the dining area and Ned before walking back over to the counter. But before she could return to her pie crust pinching Digby once again nudged her hand. "What?" she asked, turning to the dog.

Digby took two steps forward before he sat; making sure his head was placed right under Olive's hand. He barked and nodded his head. Olive laughed and scratched behind the dog's ears, making his tail wag. "Oh," Olive said, "Is that what you want?" She asked, scratching his ears again, more vigorously. Digby barked and moved forward, setting his whole weight into Olive's leg.

Olive ignored the ready-to-be-baked pie on the counter and turned her attention to Digby, giving the dog the full attention he was craving.

A minute later, when The Pie Maker returned to the kitchen he found his new waitress being assaulted with kissed by is vivacious dog.

Olive laughed and tried to push Digby off. "A little help?" she said, through her giggles.

Ned simply took a step backward. "Digby, off," he said in a voice that Olive thought was supposed to be convincing. But the dog listened and jumped away from Olive, letting out a quiet bark.

Olive laughed and Ned helped her stand. "He acts like he's never been pet before."

Ned's eyes widened and he swallowed uncomfortably, shooting a nervous glance at Digby.

"Are you alright?" Olive asked, as she walked over to wash her hands.

Ned nodded, "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you just swallowed a bug."

Ned shook his head. "Come on," he said, "Let's finish these up." Without another word, Ned returned to his pie baking instructions.

Shrugging, Olive Snook continued to learn.

* * *

"Excuse, me. But this isn't what I ordered."

Olive Snook froze and slowly turned. Carefully she walked back to the table she had just left. "Yes," she said. "I believe it was."

"No," the customer who had called after her said, pushing the plate she had just given him away from him. "It isn't. I wanted Three Berry-à la mode."

"Sir," Olive said, slowly. "I told you the Three Berry just went into the oven and wouldn't be ready for another forty minutes. So you ordered a slice of Apple."

"I changed my mind," he replied, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'm sorry, _sir_. But there's nothing I can do about it."

"You work here, I'm sure there's _something_ you can do."

Olive sighed and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was her second day at The Pie Hole and the man before her was the first irate customer she had dealt with. Not one to take such behavior from anyone, even if they are a customer, Olive opened her eyes and smiled sweetly.

"There's nothing I can do, sir. But you on the other hand have a few options." The man sitting before rose his brow. "You can either take that piece of Apple Pie and eat it without a fuss. Or you can wait forty minutes for the Triple Berry, when I will bring you a nice fresh piece, à la mode," Olive explained. "But be warned. I will spit in it."

The man scowled but Olive could tell he was thinking. After a moment, he reached across the table to grab the plate that had been placed before him. With a dark look in Olive's direction, he began to eat the pie.

Olive smiled sweetly. "Good choice," she said, before turning and taking the few steps to the kitchen doorway. "Who the hell do you think you are?" She heard the customer mutter after her. Olive whirled quickly, shooting the customer a pointed gaze.

"I," she said, slightly louder than she intended. "Am Waitress."

* * *

"Excuse me. But this isn't what I ordered."

Ned froze, nearly dropping the pie he held when his momentum wanted to carry him forward. He backtracked two steps to the kitchen doorway, peering around the pillar so as not to be seen. A sense of dread fled through him as he knew he would eventually have to intervene if Olive got this customer's order wrong.

"…so you ordered a slice of Apple."

The Pie Maker let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. It wasn't Olive's fault; no need to intervene.

"_…something_ you can do."

Ned flinched at the tone of the customer's voice. He had dealt with one too many customers like this in his diner owner existence, and hated every minute of such encounters.

"…you have a few options."

Ned's jaw hit the floor as he listened to Olive tell the customer what exactly his options were. Never had he seen any of his previous employees handle the situation like Olive was and to say that he was happily shocked would have been an understatement.

Olive was suddenly walking towards him and he jumped, trying to seem like he hadn't been eaves dropping when the customer called after her; saying something Ned couldn't hear. Olive froze in the kitchen doorway and turned. "I," she said. "Am Waitress."

Without saying another word.

"Hear you roar," Ned said, making Olive jump. She turned towards him, blushing slightly but smiling. She winked.

And as she did so, Ned was certain he had made the right decision in hiring Olive Snook.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well there's chapter two! Chapter three won't be up for a few days. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Thank you all for reading and to those who reviewed! I really appreciate it, more than I can say!

Until next time!


	3. Chapter Three: The Filibuster

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pushing Daisies. But a girl can dream.

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Three: The Filibuster**

Olive Snook was late.

She was very, very, very late.

She punched the steering wheel of her car, sending the horn into a loud, blaring blaze of sound. The car in front of her finally moved through the intersection just as the light went from yellow to red; resulting in Olive being the first in line at the intersection. She huffed, wishing she could kick something.

Olive willed the red light to change. Nothing screamed unattractive more than an employee who was late, and Olive wanted to be anything but unattractive to her new boss. She supposed that being late for work wouldn't make Ned not attracted to her (if he even found her attractive in the first place), but being on time wouldn't hurt any.

And besides her inherent need to impress the Pie Maker at all costs, Olive Snook also hated being late for anything.

The light finally turned green and Olive stepped on the gas; lurching her car forward with an unhealthy screech. Olive burned down the road, nearly side swiping a mail box as she turned left. She drove past The Pie Hole, turned down the alley and slammed on the brake; almost throwing herself over the steering wheel in the process. She parked the car, locked the doors, and got out in one great motion. As the door slammed behind her, Olive started to run, only to be pulled back after taking two steps. She stumbled back into her car, realizing that her purse strap was in her hand, but the bag was in her car. She swore under her breath and fumbled with her keys, sending a quiet thank you above that they were still in her hands. She finally had the door unlocked, and was back running down the street---purse in hand—within seconds.

A few seconds more and Olive burst through The Pie Hole doors, slipping on the freshly waxed floors as she ran to the kitchen. "I'm here!" she called, throwing her purse down and grabbing an apron. "Ned! I'm here-." Olive turned to see Ned standing before her a bemused smile on his face. "I know what you're going to say, I'm sorry, I'll get with the customers right away," she said, pushing past the taller man.

"What customers?" Ned's voice made Olive stop in her tracks, clearing her mind of the panic haze that had clouded it at her lateness. The dining room of The Pie Hole was absolutely empty. The doors were in swing from Olive's rough entrance, and she fully expected a tumble weed to roll by.

"Where's the tumble weed?" she asked, turning back to Ned.

He laughed lightly and scratched the back of his neck. "No tumble weed, but I'm sure there will be plenty of dust before the day's through."

Olive let out a long breath and walked to the counter, hopping onto one of the stools. "No one has come in this morning at all?"

"It's been an hour and a half of no one."

"I was an hour and a half late?!" Olive screeched, looking at her watch. She knew she was going to be late, but the severity of it hadn't registered in her panic stricken mind.  
Ned nodded as he walked to the other side of the counter, facing his petite employee.

Olive groaned. "I'm so sorry, sorry doesn't even begin cover it."

Ned smiled and shrugged. "No one's here, no worries. But why were you?"

"Traffic."

Ned's face lit in understanding. "Early morning rush."

Olive nodded. "And I have a forty minute drive anyways, so it didn't help."

Ned's head tilted to the side. "Why do you have a fort---," Suddenly, without warning, Ned's face went pale and his eyes wide as his voice trailed off. "Oh no."

"Ned? Are you alright?"

Ned shook his head faster than Olive thought was humanly possible. "If they ask for me, tell them I'm not here."

Without another word Ned dropped down, disappearing behind the counter.

"Ned!" Olive called, leaning over the counter to see her boss sitting back against it. He looked up, put his finger to his lips and shooed her with the motion of his hand.

Olive sat back, certain that she had never been more confused than she was at this very moment. She looked around The Pie Hole, for any clues as to Ned's sudden need to hide, when her eyes fell on the door, just as a man and a woman walked through the door.

Olive felt her jaw drop at the sight of the two strangers

They were dressed head to toe in red, white, and blue; spitting images of Uncle Sam, save for the white hair and goatee. Olive paused, waiting to hear the ever famous "I Want You" spew from their lips but it never came.

"Oh Ned!" The woman called as she and the man walked towards the counter.

"Have you seen our favorite pie baker?" The man asked, turning towards Olive.

Olive babbled, trying to answer, but words could not overcome her shock. Her eyes shot to the space behind the counter.

"Really Fillmore, don't tease," the woman said to the man. "Ned, we saw you drop behind the counter."

There was an audible groan from Ned's general direction. After a second, The Pie Maker slowly reappeared; a false grin plastered on his face."

"Neddy!" the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Florence," Ned replied, through gritted teeth. "What brings you two here?"

"Oh you know, just a visit," the man said. "We heard about Agatha leaving to find bigger and better things--." Ned shuddered as the man spoke. "And we wanted to offer our condolences."

"Yes," the woman added. "Do tell us have you found a replacement yet?"

Ned stuck his hands in her pockets and nodded. "This is Olive," he said, turning towards Olive, who had finally managed to close her mouth. "My new waitress."

"Olive Snook," Olive said, holding her hand out in greeting, still reeling from shock.

The man, who was nearest, took her hand first; shaking it so hard her whole body shook. "Fillmore Filibuster," he said, releasing her hand to allow the woman next to him to take it. "And this is my sister--."

"Florence Filibuster."

Olive smiled as Florence released her hand. "You're related." Was all Olive could manage; still in shock by the siblings' appearance.

"Fraternal twins to be exact," Fillmore said, and the two smiled.

"Fillmore and Florence own the bakery across the street," Ned said, nodding towards the twins.

"There's a bakery across the street?" Olive asked, causing Fillmore and Florence to laugh.

"Our humble little bakery," Florence said, voice filled with pride.

"Hardly anyone notices it until they feel the need for a tasty treat," Fillmore added before he and his sister turned to look out the window.

Olive followed their gaze and felt her jaw drop once more; "humble" and "little" becoming merely an understatement. Sitting across the street was what appeared to be an exact replica of The White House with the sign "The Bureau Bakery" displayed proudly on the front. Olive wondered how it was possible that she had missed the establishment before.

Olive turned back to Ned, Fillmore and Florence; the twins' Uncle Sam garb finally making sense.

"How lovely," Olive said. Fillmore and Florence nodded their thanks. She turned to Ned who shook his head, silently asking her to keep the conversation away from him. She frowned before turning back to the twins. "Why did you decide to make it so---patriotic?"

Fillmore and Florence turned to one another, sharing smiles that boarded on conspiratorial.

The facts were these:

Fillmore and Florence Filibuster, twenty-eight years, five months, two weeks, and twenty hours old, had grown up surrounded by politics, politicians, and political advisors. A family full of politicians had set them on the path to The White House. Their parents, two successful campaign managers for the local area often had parties for their affiliates. Fillmore and Florence were often asked to help prepare for the parties, assisting the cooks with their baking needs. And so the twins' love of baking had been born, a love they combined with their family pride to from their successful bakery: "The Bureau Bakery".

"All baked goods are welcome in our White House," Fillmore said, his eyes wide with excitement.

"We're bi-partisan," Florence added, sending her and her brother into a loud bought of laughter.

Olive eye's lit in false amusement and she turned to the Pie Maker; surreptitiously moving her finger next to her temple. Ned bit back a laugh and smiled.

"How thoughtful of you," Olive spoke, turning back to the twins.

"We've thought of extending our lot to pastries--" Fillmore said.

"--But then decided we'd leave the pastry baking to Ned here--," Florence added.

"--Even though he's quite limited in his offering."

Ned scowled. "I've got a large selection of pie," he defended.

"But pie is just pie, Ned—," Florence said.

"--What about all of those other little pastries waiting for a chance to be served?" Fillmore finished.

"It's _The Pie Hole_," Ned said, crossing his arms. "Pie is in the name, we serve pie."

"Besides," Olive spoke up, standing as she did so. "Nothing screams patriotic like pie, right?"

The twins laughed. "Ned you've found yourself a funny one!" Florence said.

Olive looked to Ned, her eyes wide and he merely shook his head. Fillmore and Florence's laughter died down before they looked at each other. Fillmore nodded.

"Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way--," Florence said.

"--Down to business." Fillmore finished. The two sprang forward, sitting in the nearest seats at the counter, making Olive jump back.

"Didn't you say you came to offer your condolences?" Olive asked, as she walked behind the counter to stand next to Ned. The Pie Maker smiled at his petite waitress before the two turned their attention to the twins sitting across from them.

"The cook-off is a few months a way, Neddy boy," Fillmore said, his tone low and serious.

"Thinking about competing this year?" Florence asked, raising her brow.

Ned shifted uncomfortably. "You two know I don't compete." Was his deflected answer.

Fillmore and Florence sighed. "Ned, I do think it's time you stepped outside the box you live in," Florence said, as she and her brother shaped out boxes in the air.

"Box? What box? I don't live in a box," Ned said defensively. "I just don't like competition."

Florence turned to Olive. "We've been trying to get Ned into neighborhood competition spirit since he first opened his doors," she said, as if it were the most tragic story she had ever told.

"Really," Fillmore said turning towards Olive as well. "Would our Founding Fathers have accomplished what they had if they hadn't had a little competition driving them?"

"Um," Olive stumbled shooting a confused glance to Ned. "No?"

"Heck no!" Florence exclaimed enthusiastically. "Where's your sense of adventure Ned?"

"Rolled tight into a ball of dough that I have waiting to be rolled out in the kitchen," Ned said, taking slow steps towards the kitchen. "So if you'll excuse me." Ned quickly turned and walked to the kitchen; mouthing a "Sorry" to Olive as he passed her.

Olive turned towards Fillmore and Florence and smiled.

The twins sighed. "We'll get him one of these days," Fillmore said, shaking his head. Olive offered what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, but was certain it looked like a grimace.

"Come Fillmore," Florence said as she stood. "We shouldn't leave the bakery alone for much longer."

Fillmore nodded and stood. "A pleasure meeting you, Olive."

Olive nodded and smiled. "The pleasure was all mine."

The twins began to slowly back out of The Pie Hole.

"If you're ever in the mood for a baked good--," Florence said.

"—Stop by The Bureau--," Fillmore added.

"—First treat is on the house--."

"—No worries, though, you won't have to deal with any Representatives."

Without another words the twins left, their laughter ringing behind them.

"Are they gone?" Ned asked, sticking his head through the kitchen doorway.

Olive nodded. Ned sighed and came back into the dining room, standing beside Olive. The two watched Fillmore and Florence cross the street before disappearing behind their bakery's doors.

"It looks like the Fourth of July got sick and threw up on them," Olive said.

Ned smiled and let out a quiet laugh.

"Do you really hate competition that much?" Olive asked.

Ned shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it has much, if it wasn't for the Filibuster twins."

Olive nodded in understanding. "They're acted like two snakes ready to strike."

"Going straight for the jugular."

Olive and The Pie Maker simultaneously shuddered.

The bell above the door rang, making Ned jump. Olive turned, prepared to see that the twins had returned. Both Pie Maker and Waitress visibly relaxed to see a family of customers walk through the doors.

"I've got 'em," Olive said.

"I'll get baking," The Pie Maker replied.

Olive and Ned shared a smile before heading in their respective directions as work began.

* * *

Olive Snook was late.

She was very, very, very late.

She burst through the doors of The Pie Hole, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't busy. She paused briefly, relieved (and concerned) to see that it, in fact, was not. She sighed and walked to the kitchen.

Ned looked up from the pie he was filling when Olive walked into the room.

"Sorry," she said, without preamble.

The Pie Maker offered a smile. "Traffic?"

Olive nodded, throwing her purse down, "It's a b--,"

"And you have a forty minute drive," Ned said, quickly. Olive laughed and nodded. "Why do you?"

"Why do I what?"

"Have a forty minute drive?"

Olive looked bemused, picking up a piece of strawberry and plopping it in her mouth. "Because that's where I live."

Ned laughed, shaking his head. "But if you work here, why not—move?"

Olive shrugged. "Thought hadn't crossed my mind, I guess," she said. Something nudged her hand and she turned; smiling when she saw Digby sitting beside her. "'Morning Digby," she crooned, ruffling the dogs ears. Digby barked and Ned smiled.

Olive turned her full attention to the dog, who had come to hold a special place in her heart in the few short weeks she had worked at _The Pie Hole_. It seemed that wherever Olive went, so did Digby, save for when she was helping customers. He followed her as she cleaned and sat with her when she furthered her pie baking endeavors. Normally, she wouldn't have found the behavior odd, except for when she saw Digby interact with Ned.

Though Digby was a loyal dog and Ned appeared his loyal owner, the two had a most odd relationship. Olive was certain that she had never seen the two touch. They kept a safe distance from one another, moving around each other with practiced steps. Olive supposed it was allergies, but then, she wondered, if you're allergic, why have a dog in the first place?

"You know, I--," Ned's voice interrupted Olive's musings and she turned towards him.

"Yes?"

Ned's mouth shut and he shook his head slightly. "Never mind," he said.

Olive's brow quirked but she shrugged and turned back to Digby.

"No, I--," Ned spoke again before stopping.

Olive turned from Digby to his pie baking owner. Digby wined slightly at the loss of attention before sliding down to lay at Olive's feet. "What is it?" Olive asked Ned.

Ned sighed and shifted awkwardly. "Well, I was thinking---." His voice trailed.

"Yes?"

Ned shifted again before he spoke, his words coming out a mile a minute. "I was thinking---I live in one of the apartments upstairs, and my neighbor recently moved and I was thinking that if you live so far away and wanted to move closer, you could look into it."

When he was finished Ned let out a long, slow exhale before sticking his hands in his pockets. He nodded.

Olive was certain she looked like the Cheshire Cat; her grin spanning from ear to ear. She felt her heart flutter and her stomach lip at the offer Ned had just proposed. A move closer would mean less traffic. But it would also mean leaving the horses and the track for good. But then, Olive reasoned the biggest reason of them all, it would mean being closer to Ned, and perhaps even more time _with_ Ned.

"Just something to consider," Ned finished with a nervous smile.

Olive's smile widened. "I will consider it. Thank you for letting me know," she said, placing her hand atop Ned's arm. His smile turned genuine.

Before the two could say anything further a customer walked in.

"Off I go," Olive said. With a smile and a wink she all but skipped into the next room.

Ned exhaled again, looking down to Digby. The dogs head was quirked to the side, his look inquisitive.

"What?" Ned asked.

Digby barked.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well there's chapter three! Hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you to anyone who reviewed!!!

Until next time!


	4. Chapter Four: Neighbors

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pushing Daisies. Nope, nope nope…

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry this wasn't up sooner! Do enjoy =D

* * *

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Four: Neighbors**

Olive Snook was certain she was going to break her back.

She let loose a string of curses; language she would have with held from the company she had left not thirty minutes before.

_Olson Snook, more commonly known has Ollie to those he knew, closed the back of the moving truck his daughter had rented. Violet Snook, even more commonly known as "V", turned towards her daughter. "Olive, dear, are you sure you want to do this?"_

_Olive sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, something she had never done prior to working at The Pie Hole. "I'm positive, Mom."_

_Her mother sighed. "All of those riding lessons we paid for, for naught," She said, making Olive roll her eyes._

_"Oh come now, V, Olive has had a good run," her father defended._

_"Yeah, Mom, it's not like I quite when I was fifteen."_

_"But really Olive, a waitress?" Her mother tsked, and even her father seemed to hold a slight look of disappoint in his eyes._

_"It's time to move on." Was the only answer she gave her mother._

_"Well," her father said, breaking the short silence that had fallen over the family, "We should go, work calls. Sorry we couldn't stay and help you unpack Ollie," he finished, calling Olive by his own nickname, a term of endearment the waitress had never been sure if she liked or not. _

_"I'll be fine, Dad," Olive said, hugging her father._

_"But you won't be able to get all of these boxes up the stairs," Her mother said, as she hugged the older woman._

_"I'll just use the lift, my apartment is right next to it."_

_Ollie and V both nodded, "Don't be a stranger, Ollie," Ollie, said._

_"I won't Dad, I promise."_

_Olive watched as her parents got into the moving truck; waving as they drove off. She let out a long breath when the truck disappeared around the corner. She turned towards the pile of boxes that sat beside her on the sidewalk. Deciding to get started on the tedious task of moving into her new apartment, Olive started with the light boxes. She picked up two of the boxes and walked to the apartment complex lift, stepping inside and pushing the button for her floor. _

_Nothing happened._

_Olive quirked her head and tried again, pushing the button. Again, nothing happened._

_Olive tired a third time. A fourth. A fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth. Nineth. Olive huffed and tried a tenth time, and still the lift didn't budge. She sighed and looked at the two light boxes she had chosen to take up first and thought of the dozen other boxes (both light and heavy) that needed to be taken to her new apartment._

_She groaned; knowing that the only way to get her new home furnished was via the stairs, and that she had to do it alone._

Olive reached her floor, leaning against the wall as she tried to catch her breath; wondering if breaking all of her dishes would make the box lighter. She sent a silent thank you to the heavens that her furniture had been moved in the day before, thanks to a moving team.

"Oh, there you are."

Olive jumped at the sound of a voice she turned, tripping over her box of dishes in the process. Two arms steadied her and she looked up to see Ned smiling at her shyly.

"Sorry I scared you," he said.

Olive smiled, feeling warmth spread through her body, beginning where Ned's hand rested. She turned her gaze to the arms around her and Ned, apparently misreading the look quickly stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back.

A slight blush covered Olive's cheeks but she continued to smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, I thought you might want some help moving in."

"But what about The Pie Hole?"

"The oven broke," The Pie Maker explained and Olive saw his eye twitch.

"No oven, no pies," Olive said with a smile.

Ned let out a small chuckle. "So I thought I would close up for the day and help you move in---if that's alright and you need it."

"Not only is it needed," Olive said, "But it's requested. And since you've volunteered, your first act of move in heroism can be taking this box," she said, pointing to the box at their feet.

"Move in heroism?" Ned asked, amused, as he picked up the box. The item was heavier than her anticipated and Olive had to bite back a laugh as she watched Ned tumble down the hall, his long legs nearly giving out. He all but through his body into the wall to keep himself from falling.

"Sure," she said, as Ned righted himself. "You're a regular Move in Day White Knight. I was left on my own to get these boxes up here. I haven't been that successful."

Ned chuckled as he followed Olive to her new apartment, right next to his. Suddenly, Olive stopped, nearly sending Ned to the floor again. She turned.

"How did you get up here? I didn't see you on the stairs."

Ned's head tilted to the side, "I took the lift," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Olive's face filled with confusion. "But---it's broken."

Before he could stop himself Ned laughed quietly. "It's not broken."

"Yes it is. I couldn't get it to work."

"I promise it's not broken," Ned said through his laugh. "Just stuck; there's a secret to get it going."

"Well, hell," Olive said, glaring at the offending mode of vertical transportation.

Ned smiled. "I'll teach you," he said. "But do you think I could set this down first?" He asked, readjusting the box in his hands.

"Oh!" Olive all but yelled thoughts of the lift forgotten at Ned's discomfort. "Of course!" she said, running the rest of the way to her apartment and opening the door. "Come on in," she said with a wide smile.

* * *

"So you push the button for the floor you want; then kick right below all of the numbers," Ned said, demonstrating as he explained. The lift gave a lurch, catching Olive off guard and throwing her into the wall. "And brace yourself," he said, as the lift descended.

"Good to know," Olive said, rubbing her behind. A small silence filled the air. Ned stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels; Olive began to whistle. After a moment Ned smiled.

"_Fever_?" He asked.

Olive blushed. "What's an elevator without cheesy elevator music?"

"But why _Fever_?" Ned asked, quirking a brow. "Why not _Copacabana_?"

Olive felt heat rush through her body. The world around her became hazy as her mind wandered…

_"Why not _Fever_?" she asked, her voice low as she took a step towards Ned. _

_Ned was not his normal shy self as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Olive's waist and pulling her close. "Indeed," he replied, before embracing Olive with a passion that she equally matched._

Olive shrugged. "'Because it's…_Fever_?"

The Pie Maker smiled as the elevator came to a halt. He opened the doors for Olive to pass through and spoke: "Indeed."

Olive froze and gulped, feeling a shiver run through her.

"You alright?" Ned asked, noting Olive's pause.

Olive nodded, "Someone must have walked over my grave," she said, waiting for the rest of her fantasy to occur. When it didn't she righted herself and began to walk again. "My things are over here."

The two coworkers rounded up the remaining boxes Olive had, setting them in the lift as they worked. When they finished they found themselves in the lift again, with Olive standing before the number pad.

"Okay," Olive said, standing before the numbers as if she were about to run a marathon. "Push the level number, kick; brace myself."

"Right," Ned said, as if he were her coach.

"Right," Olive said, nodding her head. She let out a long breath, punched the button for four, and kicked the wall before her. She braced herself but nothing happened. She turned to Ned.

"You have to kick it _really_ hard," The Pie Maker explained. "Like you're going to kick a watermelon."

"Okay," Olive replied, turning back towards the numbers. "Like I'm about to kick a---," she looked to Ned. "Watermelon?"

Ned's ears flushed red.

"Why would I kick a watermelon?"

"To get it out of the garden?" The Pie Maker offered.

"Of course," Olive said with a smile, making Ned's ears flush a deeper red. Olive took in a deep breath, pushed number four and kicked the wall with all her might. A piercing pain shot through Olive's entire leg from the kick. She let out a yelp and cradled her foot. Ned reached forward to steady her, but as it was cradling her foot meant that Olive hadn't braced herself, and she tumbled into Ned. As he was busy trying to steady Olive, The Pie Maker hadn't braced himself and the lurch of the elevator sent the two tumbling to the floor; Ned's arms securing Olive as he took the brunt of the fall.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned it's best to kick with the side of your foot and not your toes," The Pie Maker said, winded.

Olive groaned. While she currently found herself wrapped in Ned's arms, on a lift floor with a throbbing foot was not the way she had hoped she would be there.

* * *

Olive sat on her couch, boxes strewn around her. Her foot was atop the coffee table that Ned had precariously set before her, minutes before he left. She tapped her foot that was on the ground and watched the door. Her foot didn't really hurt anymore, she knew. But Ned insisted that he sit while he ran next door to his place to get some ice for it.

"And really," Olive mused to the empty room. "Who am I do deny him?"

She giggled to herself and leaned back, resting her head on the back of the couch. She turned her head to the sides, taking in her new home. The flowery wall paper was not something Olive would have chosen for herself. But since she had no intention of redecorating she supposed she would learn to like it, and perhaps one day love it; like she did the horse wallpaper in her bedroom.

Olive could not lie. While the thought of living next to Ned had enticed her to look into the place; it was the horse wallpaper in the room that won her over.

The door creaked open, and The Pie Maker reappeared; ice wrapped in a towel in hand. "I brought a long a friend, I hope you don't mind," he said, opening the door wider.

"Digby!" Olive exclaimed as the dog came trotting inside. "Come here."

Digby perked at the command and ran to Olive, jumping up onto her couch; deciding that it would be more comfortable to sit half atop Olive and half on the cushions. "Oof," Olive said, petting the dog on his head. The dog relaxed into Olive as his tail thumped on the couch.

"He didn't disturb your foot, did he?" Ned asked, placing the ice on Olive's foot.

Olive smiled as The Pie Maker tended to her foot. "No," she said. "It's perfect."

* * *

"I think you should take the rest of the week off," The Pie Maker called, as he unpacked a box of dishes.

"What?" Olive asked, walking back into the living room from the bedroom. She grabbed more clothes.

"I think you should take the rest of the week off," The Pie Maker said again.

Olive succeeded in dropping her clothes.

"Why?" she asked, slightly louder than she had intended.

Ned stopped unpacking plates and turned to his sole employee. "To let you get settled in."

Olive smiled. "I don't exactly have a lot to do; we're almost done as is."

Ned smiled slightly. "I know, but this is still all new to you. You should take some time to get used to it all. Besides I owe you some time off. You've worked every day for the last month and a half."

"Well yes but—are you sure?"

The Pie Maker nodded. "I—also think that it would be best if you took a couple of days off each week."

Olive's eyes widened. "But why?" She asked, not wishing to spend a day away from The Pie Maker. Was she a bad waitress? Did she do something wrong? "Did I do something wrong?"

"Huh?" Ned asked; his held tilting. "Oh! No!" He quickly reassured, walking towards Olive. For just a moment, Olive was certain The Pie Maker was about to lay his hand gently on her arm, but the moment passed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I just—aren't you tired of working every single day?"

Olive opened her mouth to respond, but paused. She thought of the aching back she had endured for the past six weeks; as well as the sore feet she had to soak in hot water every night. Plus the few headaches some she had put up with; the result of confrontation between herself and some less-than-friendly customers.

"But I can't just leave you alone…" Olive tried to defend.

"Olive," Ned kindly warned with a crooked smile.

Olive sighed. "Oh fine," she resigned. "But only if you do too."

Ned's brow quirked. "I own The Pie Hole. Shouldn't I be there every day?"

"Ned," Olive said, mimicking The Pie Maker's warning tone. "When was the last day you took a day off?"

"I haven't needed one in a while," he defended lamely.

"Well then it's the perfect time to start."

"I really don't need to."

"Besides, in all honesty, you know I handle customers better than you," Olive said with a teasing smile.

The Pie Maker's lips quirked. "Too bad you can't say the same for your pies."

Olive's jaw dropped at the Pie Maker's retort before a wide smile lit her face. "Why Ned, I do believe I'm rubbing off on you."

Before The Pie Maker could respond there was a knock on the door. From his spot on the floor, Digby's ears perked. He jumped and ran to the door, barking once before sitting and looking to the two humans in the room.

"That'll be the pizza," Olive said. "Person who answers the door has to pay. I'll get the plates." With a wink Olive walked into her kitchen.

Ned shook his head and walked to the door. "Only because I still feel bad that you hurt your foot."

Olive laughed as she got two plates and searched for some napkins. Realizing that she hadn't packed napkins (because really, who does?) she settled for two towels. Ned walked into the kitchen a moment later with a pizza box.

"Where should I set this?" He asked.

Olive shrugged. "Pick a spot, any spot. The place is already a mess."

Ned settled for the stove and opened the box. Olive handed him a plate. "I don't have anything to drink besides water, obviously," she said.

"That's alright I—."

"OH! Wait!" Olive jumped and clapped her hands. She hopped over some boxes searching for something. "I know it's here somewhere…" she mumbled, rummaging through boxes. "Ah ha! Here it is." She exclaimed, turning back towards The Pie Maker, holding a bottle of wine. "A moving gift; courtesy of my parents."

Ned smiled. "Wine and pizza; just like Rome."

"Seasoned travelers, we are," Olive said, grabbing two wine glasses out of an open box as she walked into the kitchen.

Together, they dished up their dinner.

Ten minutes later Olive Snook and The Pie Maker where sitting on Olive's couch eating their dinner; plates abandoned with the pizza box sitting before them.

"What did you get on your half?" Olive asked, eyeing their shared dinner.

"Vegetable," The Pie Maker replied, taking a bite of his slice.

"Don't like the classic Pepperoni?" Olive asked, taking a bite of her own slice.

Ned stiffened slightly. "I don't—eat meat."

"Vegetarian?"

The Pie Maker nodded and his eye twitched. "I would if I could," he said, his eyes widening, as if he was surprised at his own emission.

"Could?" Olive asked, turning her body towards Ned.

His eyes were wide and he looked slightly frightened. He looked towards Digby who barked before he turned back to Olive. "I—can't stomach it."

"Any meat at all?"

He nodded quickly and his eye twitched again.

Olive shrugged, accepting the explanation, and continued to eat her pizza.

A comfortable silence fell over the room. Digby got up and walked around the room to sit by Olive, patiently waiting for her to feed him a piece. Olive looked to Ned to see if he was watching. When she was certain he wasn't paying attention she fed the K-9 a piece of pepperoni.

"Olive?" The Pie Maker asked, breaking the silence. Olive froze, waiting to be berated for feeding Digby. When Ned didn't respond she turned to the man, finding him staring at her with soft eyes.

"Yes?"

There was another silence as the two looked at one another. Olive felt her breath hitch and her heart race as The Pie Maker held her gaze, something he hardly ever did. She felt herself drowning in his gaze; hypnotized.

"Would you like to get dinner sometime?" Ned blurted suddenly, eyes wide.

Olive quirked her head. "We're already eating dinner, Ned."

Ned's eyes widened before his mouth twitched and he seemed to relax. "No, I mean. Again. Out. Somewhere. Sometime..," His voice trailed as he looked at Olive.

Olive froze, her own eyes widening. She did not know where The Pie Maker's invitation had come from nor what sparked it; for she had had no sign that it would be coming. But Olive found herself neither wanting to know nor caring. The only thing that mattered was that the invitation had been sent and she had only a short time to RSVP.

"I'd love to," Olive quickly replied, smiling the brightest smile she was sure she had ever given.

Ned smiled shyly and took another bite of pizza.

Digby barked, wanting another piece of pepperoni.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Last update of 2008 with 30 minutes to spare! I hope you enjoyed! Happy New Year to all!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Until next time in 2009!


	5. Chapter Five: The Plague of the Horse

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, don't own Pushing Daisies.

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Five: The Plague of the Horse**

Olive Snook was trying to balance one plate too many.

She bit her tongue, making sure she didn't drop any of the ware and the pie slices they held. She quickly made her way around The Pie Hole, depositing orders and making notes for more coffee as she went.

"Be right with you," she said, passing a customer that had seated himself in the booth by the door. She expertly grabbed a menu off of a deserted table and handed it to him, continuing on her way to deliver the orders.

When she freed her hands, she continued her momentum back to the booth where the newest customer of The Pie Hole sat.

"I like your hat," she said, pointing to the fedora hat that rested on the table.

"Blueberry," the man replied, trading his menu for a newspaper he produced from the inside of his jacket.

Olive nodded. "A la mode?"

"No." Came the reply.

"Coffee or anything else?"

"_If _I had wanted something else I would have told you I wanted something else," the man replied. "Blueberry." Without another word, he opened his paper and began to read.

"Hm." Olive scowled. Slowly, she turned on her heels and walked to the kitchen. She grabbed the already baked blueberry pie and cut off a new slice. As she set the slice on the plate she eyed the new customer from the kitchen. His eyes were glued to his newspaper, as if the quaint shop around him did not exist.

In the past weeks that she had worked at The Pie Hole Olive had begun to pride herself in her friendly interactions with the customers. The pie diner was a quaint place that allowed her to do so, and more often than not the customer's responded with equal enthusiasm in conversation. Not one to be deterred by such quick, short responses, Olive strutted back to the table.

"Here ya' go," she said, placing the plate on the table. The man merely flipped a page of his newspaper in response. "Find anything interesting in the paper?" Olive asked, attempting to break this man's silence once again.

"No," he replied, folding the paper and setting it on the table. He picked up his fork, cut off a piece, and held it to his mouth. He paused, fork and pie mid air, and looked to Olive who still stood before him. She rocked on her heels, expectantly, and smiled.

"What?" the man asked, his stance not faltering.

Olive shrugged. "Just waitin' to see if you like the pie."

The man sighed slowly, as if calming himself, and set down his fork. "Did it ever occur to you that I might want to enjoy this piece," he said, pointing to the pie. "In peace."

Olive blinked and smiled wider.

"That means," the man continued. "Without you. Buh bye." He waved Olive off towards the kitchens. Olive frowned as the man picked up his paper and started to read it once more, pointedly ignoring the waitress before him.

Olive scowled when she realized that the man was not going to make conversation with her. "Hmm," she squeaked again, turning and stalking to the kitchen.

She hid just around the doorway, peering into the main room. She watched as the man looked to make sure he was alone, set down his paper, and began to eat his pie. Olive's eyes narrowed even more and she pushed away from the wall, walking further into the kitchen.

"Some people," she said, to Digby who lazily looked up at her in response. The dog's tail wagged as he rolled onto his back. He cocked his head to the side and looked at Olive, tongue hanging out. The waitress smiled and knelt down, rubbing Digby's stomach. After a moment Digby's tail wagging ceased, and he strained his head back. In one swift move, that sent Olive backwards to the ground, the dog was up; running towards the back kitchen door.

A second later the door opened and The Pie Maker walked through, a large case of fresh fruit in his hand. He stumbled, trying to hold the door open with his foot so he could get through. Olive jumped up, running to the door and holding it open in help.

Ned tripped forward and set the case on the table top. "Thanks," he breathed, resting his weight on the table before standing and stretching his back muscles.

"No problem," Olive said, walking to the table. She grabbed an apple out of the crate, weighing the perfectly ripe fruit in her hands. "Where do you keep it?"

"What?" Ned asked, unloading smaller cases of fruit out of the large one

"We hardly keep any fruit in here. And you always leave and then come back with a whole cart filled with it," Olive explained, taking a bite of the apple. "As if you picked it right off the tree."

Ned froze, staring at the small box of raspberries before him. "Well I—uh, buy it as fresh as I can. But I've got—a---room down in the alley that I keep it in," he said, tumbling over his words.

"Oh," Olive said, taking another bite of the apple. Since she had known The Pie Maker, Olive had come to learn a few things; the first, and most important, being that he stumbled on his sentences when nervous or discussing something he'd rather not discuss. And that the subject should generally be dropped.

Besides, Olive figured, his reason was good enough.

And of course, he was handsome. And handsome always won out. Especially in the form of Ned.

"…Tonight?"

Olive blinked, realizing that Ned had been talking to her. It took her a moment to realize that she was staring, with an impish grin on her face, and Ned seemed to notice as he shifted slightly; uncomfortable.

"Sorry?" Olive asked, shaking her head to focus her attention on The Pie Maker.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out…tonight…?"

Olive felt her impish smile grow. It had been a week and a half since The Pie Maker had broached the subject of them going out after work some time. But the subject had yet to be broached again, until this most present moment.

Olive felt butterflies rise in her stomach and her heart flip. She bit her bottom lip through a smile and nodded. "Tonight would be perfect."

The Pie Maker smiled his shy smile and nodded his head once. "What time should I pick you up?"

Olive giggled slightly at the term "pick you up". It almost seemed silly to use, since their front doors were no more than five steps apart. "Why don't we meet in the hall, say, eight?"

Ned nodded. His mouth opened to respond, but a call for service from the dining room interrupted his words.

"Duty calls," Olive said with a wink, she turned to leave, all but skipping out of the kitchen.

"I'll see you at eight," Ned replied to her retreating form.

Olive paused and turned, an amused grin crossing her features. "Or in a few minutes-- when I come back with a new order."

The Pie Maker smiled sheepishly. "Right."

* * *

Olive could never remember a time she had been more nervous.

She changed her dress. Six times.

She changed her hair style. Four times.

She checked and rechecked her fingernails. Eight times.

She pressed the nonexistent wrinkles out of her dress. Nine times.

It was all for dinner with The Pie Maker. It was worth it.

It was 7:56 and twenty three seconds and she was pacing.

She walked back and forth, wondering if she would pace a whole right through the floor to the apartment below. A perfect way to meet the neighbors, she mused.

Olive Snook was no novice when it came to the art of dating. She could practically be considered a master painter, a title she wasn't sure was good or bad. But she had never been so nervous before a date. And she knew it was all due to the man she was going to be meeting.

_Actually_ she thought. "I don't even know of this is a date," she spoke to herself and the empty room, pausing in front of the mirror above her dresser.

For all Olive knew this was just two co-workers going out to dinner as friends, to spend time with each other away from the clock.

Olive felt her heart sink at the thought. Along with being nervous, the petite waitress realized, she had never wanted a dinner meeting between two friends to be a date more than she did at this exact moment.

Every time she was near The Pie Maker, Olive Snook felt tingles cover her, like a small rivulet running through her entire being. Every time he smiled warmth spread through her veins and every time he smiled Olive was certain her heart did a flip. His shyness was enduring and his kindness was often unfound.

Yes, like Olive knew from the moment she had seen him, she was taken with him. But, what frightened her, she began to realize, was that the more time she spent with The Pie Maker, the more taken she became.

Olive sighed, and fidgeted with her dress one last time. Not wanting to over think herself into a tizzy and not wanting to get her hopes up, Olive decided to spend the last minute until eight o'clock in the hall.

After double checking to make sure that her door was locked, Olive walked to the banister. She crossed her arms on top of it and bent forward slightly; staring at the ground far below. She was suddenly over come with a desire to play a spitting game her older cousin had once taught her. Hit The Nail he had called it. Pick a target down below, spit, and try to hit it. Miss the target and you got walloped twice on the arm. Hit it and you walloped your opponent.

Olive leaned over the banister a little bit more, finding a trash can that would be the perfect target. She reared back, ready to spit, when the door to Ned's apartment opened. She whirled, feeling a flush cover her neck at almost being caught spitting over the building edge.

She smiled.

* * *

Ned stared at himself in his bathroom mirror.

He coughed and cleared his throat. He decided that whoever invented the tie should be cursed far into the depths of an endless abyss.

He flipped up his collar, undid the tie, and flattened the material against his chest. He quickly knotted the tie again, tugging and pulling, nearly cutting off his air supply to get it straight.

The Pie Maker didn't know why he had first asked Olive out to dinner with him, but ever since his new waitress had come into his restaurant his life had been different. _He_ had been different. Olive Snook brought a light into The Pie Hole that he was certain hadn't been there before. She was spunky and outgoing. She handled herself, and the customers, unlike any other waitress he had hired before. She had an infectious attitude that he found himself drawn too.

Deciding that the tie was as straight as straight could be, he walked from the bathroom and into his kitchen.

He walked up to the potted plant that he had placed beside his sink. The wilted flower stared back at him, almost daring him to do what he was about to do. _First touch_, he thought, touching the flower; watching as it sprung back to life. He instinctively looked to his watch, timing out a minute he did not need to worry about, for he wouldn't be touching this flower back to death.

He supposed he felt guilty, for giving Olive a flower he had brought back to life from a wilted existence, instead of buying her a bouquet. He hardly used the special gift he had discovered as a child, so many years ago, when he brought Digby back from an untimely death; only doing so to ensure that he had the freshest of fruit to use in his pies. But as business had become slow at The Pie Hole, he only had so much money to spare, so the wilted flower that once resided in The Pie Hole kitchen would have to do. It wasn't as if Olive would know the difference anyway.

He grabbed the handkerchief that he had set nearby before and plucked the flower from its pot; taking care not to touch it again.

The Pie Maker checked his clock, thirty seconds to eight, and grabbed his jacket with his free hand. He sent one last look at Digby who merely barked once in response.

With a nod to his faithful K-9 Ned opened the front door and stepped into the hall way.

He saw Olive turn quickly, a faint blush running up her neck.

She smiled and so did he.

* * *

"Hiya," Olive said quietly, feeling nerves creep through her and tug at her vocal chords; keeping her from speaking any louder.

"Hi," The Pie Maker replied, equally as quiet. "You—uh—look nice," he said, when in reality he thought that she looked more than just nice.

Olive's blush crept from her neck up to her ears and spread across her face. "Thanks," she said, bashfully, an emotion The Pie Maker never thought the strong-willed waitress could embody.

"This is for you," Ned said, holding out the flower for Olive to take.

Olive felt her blush fade as a smile filled her features. She took the flower from Ned and The Pie Maker quickly stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket; hoping Olive took no notice.

Olive held her nose to the flower, taking in its sweet scent. "Let me go put this in some water…?"

Ned nodded and watched as Olive quickly unlocked her door and stepped inside.

Olive all but skipped into her kitchen. She grabbed a cup, making a note to buy a vase the next time she went shopping, and filled it with water; carefully placing the flower in its new home.

Olive felt her spirits rise as she paused for a moment to look at the flower. For, she knew, no friend gave another friend a flower when they went to dinner, if they weren't going on a date.

* * *

Olive walked back into the hall to see The Pie Maker locking his door.

"Ready?" he asked.

Olive nodded and followed suit, checking to make sure the door had indeed locked. "Lead the way," she said.

Ned motioned towards the lift and for Olive to go first, before sticking his hand in his pockets and following. Without warning, he ran into the petite, realizing a second to late that she had stopped walking.

"That's funny," Olive said, ignoring the fact that Ned had bumped into her, all of her attention before her.

"What is?"

"The plant outside that apartment," Olive said, pointing to said plant. "I could have sworn it was perfectly healthy earlier. And now it's---," she tilted her head to the side and frowned, feeling sympathy for the wilted plant.

Ned's eyes widened and he quickly looked over his shoulder to Olive's apartment, where the flower he had brought back to life now resided. The flower that was kept alive by this plant's own death.

"Oh well," Olive said, drawing Ned's attention back to her. "I guess it was my eyes playing tricks on me. Can never tell with these two."

Ned smiled "Heh, yeah."

Olive shrugged and continued to the lift.

The Pie Maker exhaled slowly and followed.

* * *

"So, where are we heading?" Olive asked, as Ned drove through the busy streets of the city.

The Pie Maker smiled slightly. "Well, at first I thought we could have dinner at Fettuccine Alfredo's--." Olive smiled, always a sucker for good Italian food. "—But then, I thought this might be better."

As he finished speaking, Ned parked in what appeared to be the only free space at The Papen County Play Park. Ahead of them, filling the park with excited glee, was a small carnival. A large banner extended over the entrance reading: Little Tikes and Tots Elementary School Third Annual Carnival Fundraising Fair.

"I—uh---hoped it might be better." The Pie Maker amended his statement, as Olive had yet to respond to their arrival at the carnival.

Olive turned her gaze from the sight before them to Ned, a wide smile gracing her features. "I do love good Italian Food," she said. "But this is much better."

* * *

"Hello! And Welcome to Little Tikes and Tots Elementary School Third Annual Carnival Fundraising Fair!" A boy proclaimed enthusiastically, through a prominent lisp, to The Pie Maker and Olive as they walked into the fair. "Here you go and have fun!" he said, shoving a piece of paper into Ned's hand before running off to meet the next arriving patrons.

Olive giggled at The Pie Maker's stunned look. "What did he give you?"

"Looks like a map of the carnival grounds."

"Looks like it was drawn by a third grader."

Ned smiled. "It probably was."

Olive moved toward Ned, angling the map down so she to could look at it. According to the map, the carnival was comprised of more games than rides, only having a Ferris Wheel and Pony Rides. The games ranged from ball tosses and ring tosses, to bingo and chess. There were art stations and art sales. There were half hour sack races and raffles. And there was, of course, food.

"We're definitely going to have to ride the Ferris Wheel," Olive said, pointing to the map.

"It looks like it's at the end," The Pie Maker said as he nodded. "What do you say we just start here and work our way around?"

Olive nodded. "But first," she said, pulling Ned towards the closest booth, "Food."

* * *

"I think this has to be the best corndog I've ever had," Olive said through a mouthful.

"I don't think I've ever had a corndog."

Olive's eyes widened, "That's right you've got that vegetarian allergic to meat thing."

The Pie Maker's mouth twitched but he smiled. "Yeah." He took a bite of his pretzel.

"Well, they are absolutely greasy and fattening."

"Sounds delicious."

"Let's face it, all the best foods are," Olive said. "Except Pie."

Ned laughed quietly and took another bite of his pretzel. "What do you want to do first?"

Olive shrugged before she paused. "Look!" she said, using her half eaten corndog to point instead of her finger.

Ned followed the deliciously greasy and fattening food to see that Olive's eye had been caught by a large stuffed horse, a prize at the booth they were standing before.

"Isn't that the cutest?!" Olive nearly squeaked, running up to the booth to get a better look.

As someone who was not interested in stuffed animals or horses The Pie Maker could not say if it was, indeed, the cutest. But he nodded and deemed it so, merely on Olive's enthusiasm alone. "Would you like it?"

Olive turned, her eyes wide, as she took another bite of her dinner. "Oh Ned, no, that's okay--."

Ned shook his head and waved his hand. "I'll win it for you," he said, walking up to the booth. "Just hold this, please." He held his pretzel for Olive to take.

Olive Snook knew that she did not need the stuffed animal horse. Nor did she do what she would do with it if The Pie Maker won it for her. But the thought that Ned was willing to win it for her sent her body a flame with warm tingles. So she simply smiled brightly and nodded, taking the proffered pretzel.

"Welcome me boy, welcome me girl, to the Dart Throw," the man behind the booth said. "One dollar, three darts, hit a balloon, win a prize. All for a good cause and school, right?"

"Right," Olive said with a nod.

"Six darts, please," The Pie Maker said, handing the man two dollars.

"Don't think you can do it?" Olive asked, teasingly.

Ned smiled. "Just in case."

And just in case proved to be the right case. After four darts, The Pie Maker had yet to hit a balloon. "They're moving, I swear the balloons are moving," he whispered to Olive as the man behind the booth greeted another contender.

Olive bit her lip to keep the giggle at bay that was bubbling in her. "That must be the only explanation," she managed to get out, keeping as straight a face as she could.

Ned scowled and turned back to balloon board. He took his fifth dart, closed one eye, aimed, and let the dart fly. Instead of landing on the blue balloon he had had his eye on, the dart went up, sticking in the foot of a teddy bear prize.

Olive snorted as she tried to keep her laughter in control. She stuffed the last bit of corndog in her mouth and grinned when The Pie Maker looked her way.

Next to the two the newest Dart Throwing contestant threw his first dart, landing squarely on a yellow balloon, popping it with precision.

"Well done, me boy, well done!" The man behind the booth said. "What'll be your prize?" The winner's daughter pointed to a doll on the wall and the man behind the booth went to retrieve it.

"He got it on the first try," Ned whispered, scowling slightly at the winner next to him.

"Well, this is your last, so buck up and throw," Olive said, hitting The Pie Maker's back in encouragement.

Ned nodded and readied himself again. He aimed and let the dart fly. Instead of going straight like The Pie Maker had hoped, the dart dropped, veering right. Instead of hearing a loud pop as a balloon popped, there was a very loud yelp.

Olive's mouth dropped and Ned's eyes widened as they realized that the dart had made its target in the man behind the booth's backside. The man whirled to face them, "Me boy," he said, pulling the dart out with a grimace. "I think you're done."

Ned nodded vigorously and quickly walked away, having to pull Olive as all she could bring herself to do was laugh.

* * *

"I can't believe I hit him," Ned said miserably, eating the last of his pretzel.

Olive snorted, trying to reign in her laughter. "Serves him right for getting standing by the balloons when he knew people where still playing. "Besides, it's not like he was seriously hurt. I'm sure it was all shock."

The Pie Maker nodded, and finished his pretzel. "Sorry I couldn't win you the horse."

Olive shrugged. "That's alright, I--."

Olive was interrupted as a woman's voice projected voice blared through the air. "Attention, attention, our potato sack race is about to begin. We still have a few spots left if anyone would like to join. Just five dollars in donation gets you a sack and a chance to win one of these prizes!"

Olive and The Pie Maker turned to where the voice was coming from, to see the woman pointing to a table that held three prizes for the first three winners; one of which being the same horse they had seen at the Dart Throw.

Ned's eyes lit at the opportunity to win the horse that had taunted him at the Dart Throw and he stood.

"Where're you going?" Olive asked, knitting her brow together.

"To win you that horse," The Pie Maker replied.

Olive smiled. "Ned you really don't--."

"Olive," he said, looking down at her with the most sincerity Olive had ever seen lighting his eyes. "I want to."

"Didn't you once say you don't like competition?"

The Pie Maker shrugged. "But I like y--," he paused, the rest of his sentence suspended in the air. Olive leaned forward, waiting to see if he would finish speaking. "…You like the horse, and I want you to have it."

Without another word, the flustered Pie Maker walked to pay the five dollar donation/entrance fee.

Feeling slightly stunned, Olive blinked. She was more than positive that Ned had been about to finish his sentence with 'you' and though it was the next word he had spoken, they both knew he had changed his context. Feeling hope and disappointment bubble inside her, Olive quickly made way to the sidelines of the race, not wanting to miss a second.

Olive had to laugh. The Pie Maker was the tallest competitor in the race; the potato sack only reaching just above his knees. He was hunched over and looked slightly uncomfortable; but determined.

"Alright racers!" The woman, who had been announcing the imminent start of the race, spoke. "You course is straight ahead, around the tree at the end of the field, and then back here to cross the finish line. On your mark, get set, go!"

Olive Snook watched as the race began.

The Pie Maker surprised Olive, for though he was all but crammed into his small racing sack, he was agile. He hopped ahead of the other racers, leading the pack down the field. At the tree, he turned and Olive winced as he almost fell. The stumble allowed the other racers to catch up to him, but he recovered and kept his lead.

It was the home stretch, all of the racers hopping towards the finish line that had been pulled across the way after they left the start. Olive felt herself jumping, silently cheering on The Pie Maker as he led the group. Ten feet. Just ten feet and he would win. Olive felt excited giddiness build in her as she smiled and clapped; her jumping becoming excessive.

And then suddenly, The Pie Maker's eyes widened and Olive froze. Time seemed to slow as he tumbled, tripping over his own cramped legs; falling to the ground a mere five feet from the finish line. The onlookers let out a simultaneous gasp as the man who had been about to win the race fell to the ground; being surpassed by three other contenders.

Ned lay on the ground stunned, as the rest of the racers passed the finish line to cheers from their supporters. Olive however, ran to the field, crouching to the ground besides Ned.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

The Pie Maker nodded, and sat up, brushing grass from his hair. "Nothing but a battered ego."

Olive laughed, helping Ned to stand. "Come on, Dan Patch, the rest of the fair awaits us."

* * *

Olive blew a stray piece of hair out of her face; resting her head on her hand as she watched The Pie Maker attempt the Ring Toss.

As the night had continued on, the two Pie Holers seemed to be plagued by the stuffed animal horse Olive had seen at the beginning of the night. It seemed to be a prize at every booth and station. The raffle and bingo; the bean toss, the water squirt, and even the Test Your Strength booth had the horse. As did the blinded race, a race Olive had carefully steered Ned from.

The two attempted everything. Ned steering Olive at every opportunity to try win the horse for her. Olive had never seen Ned so persistent on getting one thing, but even she had to admit she was getting persistent to win the prize after all of their attempted failures.

But now they had made it to the ring toss. A two dollar donation, play until you win game. And Ned had been at it for ten minutes. Olive was beginning to feel her patience leave as boredom took hold.

It was endearing, to see that The Pie Maker was so passionate about winning her the prize. And the more they lost, the more persistent he became, while Olive slowly lost interest.

Olive turned her gaze from the game to the Pie Maker himself. His hair had become slightly messy and his face was flushed; albeit determined. She felt her heart flip at the sight, certain Ned had never looked more handsome…or crazed.

Endearing, she reminded herself. It was all endearing.

Olive watched as Ned quickly went through the five rings he had just been given, missing every single time. When the last ring reached his throwing hand, Olive felt herself get up, knowing Ned would ask for another five rings if he were to miss. And Olive Snook was certain he would miss.

"Ned," she said, placing her hand atop the ring in his hand. "Why don't we get to the Ferris Wheel before everyone else?"

The Pie Maker paused, looking down at Olive as she looked back up. He smiled bashfully and nodded. "Alright."

Olive took the ring from Ned's hand, throwing it behind her shoulder as the two walked off; both oblivious to the fact that it rung itself right around a bottle's neck.

* * *

"Oh the Ball Toss!" Olive exclaimed, detouring the route to the Ferris Wheel. "That's my favorite!"

The Pie Maker followed Olive to the booth, watching as she quickly paid the dollar for three balls.

"When I was a kid, I used to be a pro at this," she said, as Ned joined her. Olive turned towards the stacked bottles across the booth, and aimed; her tongue sticking out in concentration. She threw the ball, watching as it careened right over the bottles bit hit nothing.

"Yes, I can tell," The Pie Maker said with a smile, causing Olive to elbow him lightly in the side. He laughed as Olive aimed her next throw.

The ball flew through the air, hitting the top bottle off the stack but nothing more.

"Ugh, so close," Olive said.

"But no cigar," Ned finished. The two watched as the worker behind the booth placed another bottle on the stack for Olive's last try. The Pie Maker's eyes strayed slightly upward, to the row of prizes available to win and he froze.

Sitting on the shelf was the same horse that had been plaguing them all night. He swore it was staring back at him, almost taunting him to try his luck once again.

"One more chance to redeem yourself."

The Pie Maker blinked and he looked down to see Olive holding the last ball before him, tilting her head to the stuffed horse.

"Go on," she said with a smile.

Ned nodded and took the ball. Olive moved aside to allow him room to throw. He let out a long breath, readying himself and then aimed. Positive and sure that he was going to hit the pyramid of bottles Ned stepped back and threw the ball.

Had The Pie Maker put a little more "oomph" into the throw, he would have hit the pyramid square in the middle. But as he hadn't, the ball dropped just before it reached the stack, hitting the table that they sat on. The ball ricocheted off the table, going up into the top of the tent. There was a loud thunk before it could be seen flying across the top of the tent, hitting the shelf of prizes.

Then, before anyone could realize it, there was a small rumble and the tent caved; the walls that had been carelessly constructed falling to the ground with a loud crash.

The Pie Maker stood shocked, unable to move. Olive let out a loud bark of laughter. The laughter snapped Ned from his shocked stupor and he grabbed Olive's hand, pulling her away from the mess. As workers rushed to see what had happened, the two ran off; laughing at their own bad luck.

* * *

From atop the Ferris Wheel, Olive was still giggling.

"I can't believe that happened," she said, through fits of laughter.

Ned smiled, letting out a small laugh of his own. "I can't believe the walls weren't studier than that. I hardly threw it."

Olive snorted, relaxing back into the seat. From below, workers began to set up the collapsed booth, doing so in no time. A comfortable silence fell among Olive and Ned.

Below them, the city seemed to stretch on forever; lights lighting up the horizon. On the ground the city was noisy, but up above a serene quiet filled the air. Olive took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes to the sensation. It was as if only she and The Pie Maker existed, cocooned in their tiny seat on the giant ride.

"I am sorry I couldn't win you that horse," The Pie Maker spoke suddenly and quietly.

Olive smiled first then opened her eyes. "Ned, despite all of our mishaps tonight, this is the most fun I've had in a long time," she said, placing her hand lightly on The Pie Maker's in reassurance. "I mean it."

The Pie Maker smiled and nodded and Olive felt herself want to float away with joy as he took hold of her hand; encasing it with his own.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Olive and The Pie Maker stepped off the Ferris Wheel, hands still entwined.

Olive was certain she must look giddier than a five year old on Christmas, but she hardly cared. Ned's hand was warm and welcoming, and she couldn't help but feel that it fit perfectly with her own.

The two were laughing at something Ned had said when they were stopped by a line of carnival workers, all looking at them expectantly, guarding the Ball Toss booth. They froze; Olive's eyes as wide as Ned's.

Using her free hand to point at the man beside her, Olive spoke. "He did it."

* * *

"I've never been kicked out of a carnival before," Olive said, as she and Ned stood in the lift, taking them to their respective apartments.

"What _have_ you been kicked out of, then?" The Pie Maker asked, an amused grin on his face.

Olive smiled demurely and shrugged, swinging their still entwined hands before squeezing Ned's slightly. "That's for me to know, and you to find out…later."

Ned laughed, and opened the lift doors for Olive to exit. Quietly they walked to the corner that separated their apartments.

"I had a great time tonight, Olive."

Olive smiled. "I did too, Ned."

"I'd um—like to go out again, if you'd like."

Olive felt her heart nearly leap from her chest in joy. Her smiled widened and she nodded. "Just no carnivals."

The Pie Maker laughed nervously; scratching the back of his neck. "I don't think I'll go to another carnival for a long time."

Olive laughed and then the two fell silent.

"Well, goodnight," Ned finally spoke.

"Goodnight," Olive replied.

An awkward silence fell between them and Olive waited for something else to happen.

Olive Snook had never been one to kiss on a first date, but at this moment, standing alone with The Pie Maker, Olive wanted nothing more than to break her own rule and allow him to kiss her all he wanted.

Nothing happened.

A kiss on the cheek, Olive reasoned. That's all that she needed. Yes, just a kiss on the cheek. It would suffice, but not really, though she would tell herself that it would.

And still nothing happened.

Finally, Ned slightly squeezed her small hand that he held, sending warmth through Olive. "Goodnight," he said again. And then he was gone, disappearing into his apartment with the click of his front door.

Olive stared, stunned, looking at the closed door before her. She blinked a few times, wondering if she had just imagined The Pie Maker's disappearance; knowing that she hadn't.

With a sigh, Olive turned and reluctantly opened her door.

"Goodnight," she whispered to Ned's closed door, before she slowly walked into her own apartment, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry I didn't get this chapter up sooner, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. I don't know when I'll be updating again. I only have one week left until school starts and job searching takes up most of my time.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Until next time!


	6. Six: Dinosaurs and Stars and Cats Oh My

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, still don't own Pushing Daisies…

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Six: Dinosaurs and Stars and Cats…Oh My**

The Pie Maker sighed.

He ran through his ledger again, adding and subtracting; multiplying and dividing. He erased numbers wrongly inputted. But above all things, he watched as the amount of money he was making and the amount he needed to make widened; and not in a good way. A problem, he knew, with only one solution.

Deciding he could not take the thought of the ever impending solution, he looked around his pie establishment. The sight he was met with was one that did not help is sunken spirit. There were a total of three people in the whole restaurant, himself and Olive included.

He sighed and frowned, looking back to the ledger before him.

"You know, it takes more muscles to smile than it does to frown," Olive said, walking up to the counter where he stood. "So why not give yourself an easy workout and show off your pearly whites."

The Pie Maker looked up, a tug pulling his lip into a smile crooked smile. "I thought it takes more muscles to frown."

Olive shrugged and waved her hand, "Mere semantics. So what's got you in the dumps?"

Without a word, The Pie Maker slid the ledger over to Olive; letting her see what had his mood down.

Olive's own face fell as she looked at all of the scribbled numbers. "Something tells me this isn't good."

"A very large, stinky dump where I'm drowning in rotten bananas and dirty socks."

"Complete with rats floating by on cardboard rafts," Olive added, making them both shudder. "Is there anyway this can be fixed?"

Ned miserably shook his head, "Not unless business gets better."

"Don't you have any money set aside? In savings or something?"

The Pie Maker's fervent head shaking became worse as he leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. "This is it."

"What's it?" Olive asked, leaning forward slightly to hear his mumbled words.

"I used my life savings to open this."

Olive's eyes widened and she leaned back, "You have nothing left?"

The Pie Maker shook his head again.

"We'll think of something," Olive said sincerely, though she had no idea what that something would be. If anything could be done at all.

Despite himself, The Pie Maker smiled, looking at Olive in appreciation. "Thanks," he said, though he was certain nothing could be done.

"I know!" Olive said, walking around the counter to so the next part of their conversation would not be overhead by their sole customer. "To start, we can do something tonight, my treat."

After she spoke, Olive held her breath. They were words that she had waited for The Pie Maker to speak in the few days since they had gone to the carnival. When she hadn't received what she wanted, Olive began to wonder if The Pie Maker even wanted to go out again; a thought that had kept her up the entire night before.

Yet, as the sun rose, Olive realized that perhaps she shouldn't be waiting for the Pie Maker, because…perhaps, he was waiting for her. So she had woken with renewed hope and determination.

And now she felt nervous, waiting for Ned to respond.

The Pie Maker's mouth quirked. "How is that a start to my current problem?"

Not exactly the response she had been hoping for.

"Well," she said, taking another step forward, "You can't think of how to fix this without a clear mind and in order to have a clear mind you should cheer up and have a little fun."

"I see," The Pie Maker said, a genuine smile gracing his features as Olive was quickly able to take his mind away from his present problem with her cheeky ramble.

"Besides, I'm treating, so no money shall be spent."

The Pie Maker's face suddenly fell. "Oh no, Olive, I couldn't--."

Olive held up her hand, interrupting Ned's protests. "Nope. I pay, or we don't have a deal."

The Pie Maker exhaled slowly before smiling slightly. "Okay."

Olive's face lit with a smile, and The Pie Maker noted how it seemed to make the room just a little bit brighter. "Good," she said, "I may be treating, but you're still driving."

With a wink, Olive disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

"Turn right."

"You know, it might be helpful if the driver knew where he was going," The Pie Maker said, turning the wheel as Olive suggested.

Olive giggled from her spot in the passenger's seat. "Are you saying I'm bad at giving directions?"

The Pie Maker's lip quirked as he suppressed and smile. "Not at all. I just think it might be easier."

Olive shrugged. "Perhaps. But this is much more fun. Now go left." Olive relaxed into her seat, letting a comfortable silence wash through the car as Ned drove on. "Left at the light…Now right….Right….Right again." Olive settled back into her seat, keeping her body forward, but turning her head to look at the man next to her. "Now do the hokey pokey and turn yourself about."

The Pie Maker chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I think you're having too much fun with this."

Olive shrugged again. "Maybe," she said, perking up in her seat. "But the fun's over, because we're here! Pull in over there."

The Pie Maker did as he was instructed, pulling into the parking lot that had appeared before them and finding a spot. He turned off the car, and looked at where they were. "The Papen County Historical Society Museum of the Past?"

Olive nodded excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Isn't it great? I love this place."

Ned swallowed nervously but nodded. "I can't say."

"What?" Olive asked, her excitement fading as she saw the look on The Pie Maker's face, unable to interpret it for what it was.

"I've just—uh---never been here before."

Olive's mouth dropped and her eyes widened. "You haven't?!"

The Pie Maker shook his head. "No."

"Well, let's not waste any time!" Olive exclaimed, all but jumping out of the car.

Ned followed suit, getting out a locking his vehicle. Olive came around to his side of the car. "Excited?" she asked, swinging her purse onto her shoulder.

The Pie Maker felt himself nod and follow Olive, though he could not say if excitement was what he was feeling. It was an odd combination of enthusiasm mixed with trepidation. Enthusiasm that radiated from Olive and ran through him, making him want to see the museum of the past. But trepidation, knowing that when it came to museum's of the past, the main attractions tended to be dead.

* * *

As Olive and The Pie Maker stepped into the main lobby of the museum they were greeted with a large white sign that read:

"The Papen County Historical Society Museum of the Past: An Accurate Account of the World's Past, Presented Historically or Your Money Back We Guarantee."

"You think they really do that?" Olive asked, she looked to her companion, who had his head tilted to the side, trying to take in all the sign before them had to say.

"Give your money back?"

Olive nodded.

The Pie Maker shrugged. "Maybe."

"Want to see if they'll give us our money back?"

Ned turned to Olive and smiled. "I don't think my track record could handle getting kicked out of a museum too."

Olive shook her head and tsked, "You need to live more," she said.

"By getting kicked out of museums?" The Pie Maker asked.

Olive smiled and shrugged. "It would spice things up."

"I get enough spice at The Pie Hole."

"Hardy, har," Olive said, her eyes twinkling. "You're a funny one."

The Pie Maker put his hands in his pocket and smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "So where to first?" He asked, look to their right where people were walking to and left where people were walking from.

"The first exhibit, The Prehistoric, is this way," Olive said, walking to the right and leading the way. "Though I will say, I've always been tempted to start with the last one first."

"Then the past wouldn't be presented historically," Ned said following.

Olive turned. "And then we could get out money back."

The Pie Maker shook his head but smiled, walking past Olive and into the first exhibit, waiting for her to follow.

* * *

Walking into The Prehistoric Exhibit, The Pie Maker froze, feeling anxiety glue his feet to the ground.

"Neat, huh?" Olive asked, walking up and standing beside him.

"Neat is one word for it."

For someone like The Pie Maker, who could give life with a single touch, neat was, indeed, one word for it. For placed in the center of the exhibit, for all to see, was a large dinosaur skeleton. It was hunched forward, as if on the hunt; an empty cry escaping its gaping jaw. Its tail and jaw, extended forward, past the ropes that kept people from its legs.

"Can you imagine living with one of these walking around?" Olive asked, stepping towards the skeleton, having to crane her neck almost all the way back when she got close enough.

"More than is comfortable," The Pie Maker replied, keeping his distance.

"What was that?" Olive called over her shoulder.

"It—uh---would be amazing," Ned covered. "I'm just going to—um---go over here."

The Pie Maker walked around the circular room, keeping his distance from the center of the room. He instead busied himself with looking at the paintings of dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals that covered the walls. Fake plants and rocks were sporadically placed around the room, for decoration and ambiance. He cast a glance to Olive, feeling warmth spread through him at seeing her childlike glee as she looked around the exhibit. He smiled and looked away, not wanting to be caught staring, only to find two teenagers running straight at him.

"Stop them!" Someone yelled from behind. A security guard rounded the corner, causing the two teens to laugh as they zigzagged through the exhibit. One ran up a rock and jumped off, "Watch it!" he yelled, almost landing on Ned and pushing him to the side as he passed.

The Pie Maker was vaguely aware of the security guard passing him as he stumbled, trying to regain his balance. He turned, arms flailing to brace himself, only to discover that what was ready to catch him was the end of the dinosaur skeleton tail. He threw his body off balance, pulling his arms and chest back so as not to touch the skeleton; on one foot, he skirted around the end of the tail, before stumbling away from the skeleton all together on the other side. He righted himself quickly, coming to a halt in front of a wall with different animal skins hanging from it; his face mere inches from touch the fur.

"Are you okay?" Olive asked, rushing over and placing her hand on his shoulder.

The Pie Maker nodded slightly, taking one large step away from the wall. His eyes were wide, a million different scenarios of what could have happened running through his mind.

"Ned, are you sure? You don't look so good," Olive said, as Ned nodded again. When he didn't speak, Olive followed his gaze to the skins that were hanging before them. "They're supposed to represent the different mammals from the Ice Age," she said, reading a nearby plaque. "Looks a lot more like different bear skins to me."

The Pie Maker still didn't speak, opting to simply stare at the skins before them.

"Ned, are you sure you're okay?" Olive asked, before something inside her clicked. "Is it the skins?"

"I had a bad encounter with a bear skin rug," The Pie Maker said, before his eyes widened again and he realized what he had said. He looked to Olive and swallowed nervously.

"What did it too, jump to life and chase you around?" Olive asked, making Ned's eyes widen even more; he gaped. "I'm kidding," Olive said, he brow furrowing at the reaction she had received.

The Pie Maker attempted a laugh. "Right."

"Because that would be impossible," Olive said with a nod.

"Yes," The Pie Maker replied, nodding his head.

"Okay, I think we've had enough Prehistory," Olive said, "Onward we go." She took The Pie Maker's hand, all but pulling him from the Prehistoric Exhibit.

* * *

"Deep-eep-eep-eep. Space-ace-ace-ace."

The Pie Maker's mouth quirked as he turned to Olive. Her face was deep in concentration as she lowered her voice a spoke, tipping her chin towards her chest as if the action could lower her high voice another octave.

"Strange to think that we're mere specks in the scheme of things," Olive said, looking around the Space Exhibit they now stood in.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" He said, looking towards the ceiling where stars and galaxies were painted.

"That's the one thing I miss about living by the tracks," Olive said, following Ned's example and watching the ceiling. "You can see more stars there than you can in the city."

"Too many lights," The Pie Maker spoke in agreement.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as they walked around the Space Exhibit, keeping close to one another. They pointed out interesting parts of the exhibit to each other, speaking quietly; as if speaking any louder would cause their voices to become lost in the universe that surrounded them.

"Well aren't you two just the cutest," someone said, causing them both to turn. A woman with a museum employee shirt stood before them, a camera hanging from her neck. "Why don't you let me take your picture; just take a moment of your time. Free of charge unless you buy it. You can view it in the gift shop once you're done," she said, rambling quickly.

Before Olive or The Pie Maker could deny her request she was ushering them towards a wall that was covered in planets, stars, and galaxies. They were pushed together and Olive shamelessly took the opportunity to grab The Pie Maker's arm and hold him close. The Pie Maker, who didn't respond well to getting caught off guard or ushered to do things in such a way, pushed his hands into his pockets; standing stiff and uncomfortable.

"Smile!" The worker said and the two obliged, Olive's smile wide and toothy while The Pie Maker's was shy and tight. "Perfect! Just take this slip and hand it to who ever is working in the gift shop and they'll let you view it." The woman shoved a slip of paper into The Pie Maker's hand. "Enjoy the rest of your visit! Have a good day!" Without another word she was off, corralling more customers for pictures.

"What just happened?" The Pie Maker asked, still slightly stunned.

Olive giggled and plucked the slip out of The Pie Maker's hand. "I must say Ned, nothing gets past you. We'll have to stop by the gift shop before we leave."

Ned nodded, still recovering from being caught off guard by the picture woman.

"Well," Olive said, slipping the paper into her pocket. "Are you ready for the next exhibit?"

The Pie Maker nodded.

"From Deep Space to the Deep Sea," Olive said, lowering her voice as she led the way to the next exhibit.

The Pie Maker paused for a moment, watching as Olive walked off, a certain spring in her step. With a smile, he followed her giggle into the next room.

* * *

"Oh The Ancient Egypt Exhibit is next," Olive said, reading the sign that navigated visitors through the museum. "You know, if I could go back in time and live in any point of history, I think that would be it."

"Ancient Egypt?"

Olive nodded. "What about you?"

The Pie Maker shrugged, "I've never really thought about it."

Olive nodded as they walked into the room, "Oh wow," she said, her jaw dropping at the sight before them.

The room was ornately decorated; gold and hieroglyphics covering the wall. Different plaques and posters were placed around the hall, explaining how pyramids were built, how mummification was done, and about different aspects of the ancient culture. In the center of the room lay a case with a mummified person. Around the top of the room ran a ledge, littered with artifacts of different sizes. Sitting on the floor by the door they walked in where two mummified cats.

Ned side stepped the cats quickly.

"Do you think they're real?" Olive asked, stepping towards one.

"They would have to be in cases if they were, right?" The Pie Maker asked, even as he took a step forward.

Olive reached her hand forward, patting the closest one. "Yes, definitely plastic."

The Pie Maker relaxed, exhaling slowly. He looked around. "I like this exhibit, the already dead is in a case."

Olive tilted her head, quirking her brow. "You know Ned; you really say peculiar things sometimes."

The Pie Maker blushed and laughed quietly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Olive said with a smile. "It's cute." With a wink, Olive began to explore the exhibit.

* * *

The Pie Maker was walking around the Ancient Egypt Exhibit, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Olive was on the other side of the room, reading something about pyramids and quietly singing _Walk Like an Egyptian_. Her foot tapped against the tile floor in time and she bobbed her head slightly.

The Pie Maker smiled and continued to walk, keeping a safe distance from the mummified person in the middle, even though the mummy was completely covered in a glass case and roped off.

He kept to the outskirts of the room. As he passed the cats that guarded the doorway, he let his hand trail over the first one; feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to touch what appeared to be a mummified cat. He passed the door and let his hand trail to the second cat.

And then he froze, feeling his finger fall through a crack between the cloth covering the cat as a sense of dread rushed through him.

The Pie Maker quickly turned to the cat her had touched, horror shooting through him when he realized that the once stationary cat was moving, its head tilting from side to side as if it hadn't been granted the freedom to do so in thousands of years; a fact The Pie Maker knew to be true.

He panicked, looking behind his shoulder to Olive, who was still singing, thankful that she was the only one in the room. He looked back to the cat, black painted eyes stared back at him and Ned wondered if real eyes were doing the same thing beneath the cloth that covered the feline. After a moment, the cat jumped from where it stood, running around the exhibit; the tight cloth ripping in places as it did so.

The Pie Maker felt his panic shoot to an unhealthy level as he looked to his watch: he had 45 seconds to dead again the cat before something else had to die in his place. He quickly looked around, trying to spot the cat. He found it, sitting high on the ledge above the room, walking back and forth, trying to shake off its confining cloth.

The Pie Maker followed its pace on the ground, occasionally checking to make sure Olive was still oblivious and muttering, "You're supposed to be fake. Supposed to be fake," under his breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the cat leapt from the ledge, landing gracefully on the case of the mummy. It sat and watched Olive, tilting its head slightly as it listened to her singing.

"Oh ay oh…Walk like, an Egyptian," Olive's voice rang around the room, her head bobbing.

As quietly as he could, Ned snuck up behind the cat; stepping over the rope that surrounded the mummy case. He checked his watch: five seconds. In one great jump, he leapt forward, touching the cat again. In an instant, the cat went rigid; once again dead. He quickly picked up the cat and began to walk back towards the doorway.

Olive's singing paused and The Pie Maker froze, looking the waitress's way with anxiety. After a moment she continued again, humming this time as she moved to read another plaque.

As quickly as he could, The Pie Maker returned the cat to the perch by the door. The mummy no longer mimicked its partner, as its head was titled to the side and part of the cloth it was wrapped in torn in many places.

"Did you know; if a human killed a cat in Ancient Egypt, whether it was intentional or not, they were sentenced to death," Olive said, walking to standing next to The Pie Maker.

The man jumped, not anticipating Olive's appearance. "You know," he said, "I don't think I would live in Ancient Egypt."

Olive's lips turned up and her brow quirked. "Why?"

"I'm definitely a dog person."

* * *

The facts where these:

Matt Markson, a new employee at the Papen County Historical Society Museum of the Past, had made a mistake. When given the task of trading out real mummified cats for plastic replicas, he had mixed up one mummified cat for its plastic replica; placing it, case free, for all to see. A mistake, The Pie Maker had accidentally come across when he allowed his fickle finger of fate to trail across the cat.

* * *

"We'll take one," Olive said, as she and The Pie Maker viewed the photo of them that had been taken earlier that night. The employee behind the counter nodded and went to print off the picture. "You can use this picture when I receive employee of the month."

"It's a shame I was going to nominate myself, then." Was The Pie Maker's reply.

Olive smiled. "Cheeky."

"Here you go," the employee said, handing over their picture, framed in a paper cover.

The two looked at the picture one last time.

The wall behind them seemed to be made of light. Painted stars and planets illuminating the frame in a way that was so fake it all seemed real. But, The Pie Maker noted, nothing paled in comparison to the light that seemed to illuminate from Olive. He was a shy man, face slightly pale at being caught off guard to take the picture.

But Olive--Olive was the sun.

* * *

"I hope you enjoyed your first trip to the museum," Olive said as she and The Pie Maker stood in their shared hallway; saying goodnight once more.

The Pie Maker smiled. "It was an experience," he said, "But a good one."

Olive smiled and a silence fell over them.

The Pie Maker rocked on his heels as Olive swayed from side to side, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

When a minute passed and nothing happened, The Pie Maker stepped forward. "Well, Goodnight Olive," he said, catching Olive by surprise when he bent forward, encasing Olive in an awkward hug.

Awkward or not, the petite waitress was certain that she melted. "Goodnight," she managed to whisper as Ned pulled away.

With a nervous nod, he turned and disappeared into his apartment.

For a moment after The Pie Maker left, Olive simply stood, staring at the door that separated her from the man who made her heart flutter.

Since she had known him, Olive felt as if the more she learned about The Pie Maker, the more mysterious he became. And tonight had been no exception to that.

"Really, who has bad encounters with bear skin rugs?" She asked, herself, shaking her head as she walked into her apartment. She closed and locked her door, opting to lean against it then enter her apartment.

Olive wondered if The Pie Maker would ever seem less mysterious; wondering if his secrets could, or would, become hers as well. She was tempted to approach him about it, ask why he seemed to close off just when she was getting to know something. But, she knew, the simple inquiry at the fact would cause him to retreat in kind.

Olive contemplated how she could acquire the information she so desperately wanted, until her mind fell to one answer. An answer she wasn't sure she wanted to face. But an answer she knew she had to if she were to start to break through the mystery that was Ned, The Pie Maker.

With a nod of confidence Olive Snook walked into her room, searching for a red, white, and blue outfit that would be her first step to finding answers.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, I got this up sooner than I thought I would. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Until next time!


	7. Chapter Seven: Patriots for Food

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pushing Daisies.

**Author's Note:** So sorry it's been forever since I've updated. School has been crazy, but I'm on break next week and I'm sick, which always equals an update for me. So do enjoy!

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Seven: Patriots for Food**

Olive Snook looked at the hair clip in her hand. She looked in the mirror. She looked at the clip.

Olive shuddered as she clipped the clip to the side of her head, pinning done some loose hairs. She took a step back from the mirror and examined the entire ensemble she was wearing; waiting for fireworks to start shooting from her ears. She wore a blue dress, with white stars decorating it. On her feet, she wore red and white striped sandals. To top off the outfit, she had the clip in her hair: a mini patriotic top hat; much like the one Uncle Sam wore, but even more importantly, like the one the Filibuster twins wore.

Today Olive was going to begin her mission of finding out more about the man she wasn't quite sure was courting her. The Pie Maker was so reserved and puzzled Olive. Time after time she had attempted to pull just a little bit of deeper information out of him, but he always seemed to skirt around the information; leaving Olive more puzzled than before.

So she was left with no choice. She would have to get some information, _any_ information from the people who knew Ned best. And besides Digby, Olive was certain her only option was the filibusting Filibuster Twins who worked across the street.

She sighed. "I wish Digby could talk," Olive said to her reflection, twisting and turning, looking for creases in her dress. When she saw none she nodded and turned, grabbed her purse and walked from her apartment, wondering what she was about to get herself into.

Olive took in a deep, calming breath and counted to ten. With a reassuring nod she pushed open the doors to The Bureau Bakery and walked inside.

Olive supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, considering the state she had seen Fillmore and Florence in when they had first met; but then again, she knew nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her. The inside was an exact replica of the Oval Office—bakery style. What would have been the President's desk was the main counter. The walls were covered in all types of baked goods; breads and cakes included. Two couches sat at the opposite ends of the room, with a string of tables and chairs between them.

Olive felt her jaw drop at the sight. Across the room, a hidden door that resembled the wall, opened and Florence walked out; once again dressed like a female Uncle Sam. After a moment, she spotted Olive and her eyes lit.

"Fillmore! Come quickly, we have a visitor," she called over her shoulder.

"Yes, that's generally what customer's are called," Fillmore said, coming through the door his sister had previously appeared through.

"Not quite a customer," Florence responded, pointing to Olive.

The short exchange between siblings brought Olive out of her shocked stupor and she stepped forward, "Good morning, Fillmore, Florence."

"Good morning, was it--," Florence began, turning to her brother.

"Olivia," Her brother offered.

"Ah yes. Good morning, Olivia dear."

Olive tugged on the hem of her dress. "It's Olive, actually."

Fillmore put his hand to his forehead, "Of course! My apologies Olive." He stepped around the counter and approached the petite waitress. "We have a dearly departed aunt named Olivia--."

"May she rest in peace," Florence interrupted.

Fillmore nodded. "So you can see the mistake."

Olive forced a smile as Fillmore put an arm around her shoulder. "Of course."

"Now do tell us," Florence said, putting some fresh loaves of bread out. "What brings you to the West Wing of our neighborhood?" She asked, sending herself and her brother into a fit of laughter.

Olive kept her smile steady, feeling the muscles in her mouth strain, "Well you offered me a free treat if I was ever in the mood for a baked good. So I thought I would shamelessly take you up on the offer."

Fillmore and Florence laughed, as Fillmore joined his sister behind the counter. "Since you've dressed for the part, I say you receive a lifetime of free baked goods from us. What say you Florence?"

"I couldn't agree more, Fillmore."

Olive felt her smile become genuine; who could refuse a lifetime of baked goods? "I felt compelled to dress the part."

Fillmore winked, "So what'll it be?"

Olive turned her attention to the large chalk menu above the counter. "What's a Presidential Suite?" she asked.

Florence smirked a pointed to a cake that Olive was certain was bigger than herself. "Our crowning glory."

"All hail the chief," Olive said, "But it's a bit too much sugar for the morning."

"Might I suggest a Democratic Republican," Fillmore offered.

"What's that?"

"A breakfast sandwich made with our tasty, tasty fresh baked cheese bread."

"Sounds delicious," Olive said. "But I didn't think bakeries served sandwiches."

"It's a new venture of ours--," Florence said.

"To broaden our horizons--," Fillmore added.

"Because nothing says more money--."

"Like a broadened horizon."

"Besides, we figure its still bakery friendly since we use our bread."

"You'll hear no complaints from me," Olive said, taking the sandwich that Fillmore had quickly produced. She took a large bight, her eyes widened at the morning sandwich goodness that filled her mouth. "This is delicious," she said, not quite swallowing her mouthful.

The twins smiled gleefully, "Thank you," the replied in unison.

"But you've never tasted something like that coming out of The Pie Hole."

Olive felt a possessive pride swell in her chest at the jab Florence had taken at the establishment Olive called work. "In all fairness, you'd never find a sandwich in a pie shop."

"Perhaps not, but then again, one could get creative."

"Oh Fillmore, you know Ned doesn't do creative," Florence said.

"Pie is simple," Olive quickly defended. "It doesn't need outlandish creativity."

"No need to get defensive, Olive dear," Florence said.

"We're merely stating fact," Fillmore added.

"That you cannot deny," Florence finished.

Despite her better efforts to defend her boss, Olive knew she could not deny it. Ned didn't really have a creative bone in his body. And, she found, it was the perfect way to set her plan into motion. "No I don't suppose I can," she said, taking another bight of her sandwich and sitting at one of the tables. "Why do you think that is?" she asked, casually.

"What? That you can't deny it?" Fillmore asked.

"Or that Ned isn't creative?" Florence asked.

"About Ned," Olive said, taking another bight. She felt guilt wash over her. She knew she shouldn't be snooping to find out about Ned. She should just wait for their relationship, whatever kind it was, to develop and learn about him in the time that he allowed. But she was Olive Snook, and she was impatient. And when Olive wanted to know something; she found out. For what her reasoning was worth, Olive was sure that it would take years to get the Pie Maker to open up to her in anyway at the rate that they were going.

Fillmore and Florence shrugged simultaneously. "Perhaps he's just not creative," Fillmore said.

"Come Fillmore, with Ned its much more than not being creative."

"So true my sister. But he's a tough one that Ned."

Olive watched the exchange between brother and sister with a real interest. She wondered if all siblings acted in such a way, or if it was only a twin thing. She took a bight of sandwich.

"You know," Florence said, turning towards Olive. "We've known Ned for almost three years and if he wasn't so tall I wouldn't even know him if I saw him on the street away from The Pie Hole."

"He's an enigma," Fillmore said. "Do you have any juicy details of his secret nature, Olive?"

"My dear Fillmore," Olive said, stuffing the remains of her sandwich into her mouth. "I wish I did." Knowing that her plan had been for naught, and blaming Karma for the results she didn't get, Olive decided it was time to leave; having her fill of filibuster for the day. "But, I really must be off to work."

"Of course--," Florence said.

"We don't want you in trouble on our behalf--." Fillmore finished.

"Thank you both for the sandwich, it was delicious."

"Like I said, anything you want at anytime Olive, just stop by," Fillmore said.

Olive smiled. "I'll greedily take you up on that offer."

"OH!" Florence exclaimed, making Olive jump while Fillmore merely looked at his sister with curiosity. "Maybe you'll have better luck than we will," she said, grabbing a paper from behind the counter and approaching Olive. "The Papen County 15th Annual Comfort Food Cook Off is next week. We've tried to get Ned to go for a few years now. Maybe you can change his mind."

Olive took the flyer, quickly reading over the advertisement for the Cook Off. Her eyes traveled down the paper before resting on the bottom; they widened in shock. "There's a cash prize?"

"What did you think they gave away?" Fillmore asked with a bemused smile. "Blue ribbons and trophies?"

"Well there is that too," Florence said, looking at her brother over her shoulder.

Olive looked at the twins. "We'll be there."

The twins smiled. "You're deciding for him?"

"What makes you so sure you'll get him to agree?"

Olive looked at the flier in her hand. "I'll find away."

* * *

Olive Snook walked determinedly into The Pie Hole. "We need to talk," she said, to Ned's back as he got ready for the day.

Ned turned and froze, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. "Tell me you didn't," he said, before Olive could say another word.

"Tell you I didn't what?"

Ned moved his arms up and down his body, nodding his head towards Olive.

Olive's head quirked to the side and she looked down at her own body, immediately flushing. "I decided to go patriotic for the day."

"Patriotic for baked goods?"

Olive walked to the counter and sat down. "I was just checking out the competition."

"By conforming?"

"It's all part of my master plan to confuse them," Olive said, before waving her hand in the air. "Look, this is all irrelevant." She placed the flier for the cook off down on the counter.

"Olive, you didn't!"

"What?" Olive said, her eyes widening.

"You were talking to them about entering the cook off," Ned said, beginning to pace.

"So what if I did?" Olive asked, surprised at how The Pie Maker was acting.

"So what?! Olive, it's the Filibusters. The _Filibusters,_" The Pie Maker said, continuing his pacing. Olive was certain he was wearing a whole into the ground. "They are crazy, you can't be conspiring with them. You just can't. They're manipulative and twist words around and before you know it, you'll be a pawn in their big scheme of who knows what."

Olive watched with a quirked brow as the Pie Maker continued to ramble. She supposed she should be feeling anger, that Ned was reacting in such a way and all but forbidding her to visit The Bureau Bakery. But Olive found Ned's insistent rambling to be sweet, in its own way. It was as if he was trying to protect her, in his own weird way. And even if he wasn't, then Olive simply allowed herself to believe it so.

"Ned," Olive said, speaking firmly. Her tone made the Pie Maker stop and look at her. "Take a deep breath in." He did. "Now exhale." He did. "In…Out…Good. Now hit yourself." The Pie Maker's hand twitched, making Olive smirk. Ned's shoulders slumped and he looked down at the ground. After a moment, he looked at Olive with a shy smile.

"I got carried away there, didn't I?"  
"Yes," Olive said, walking around the counter. "Now first, of all, don't worry about The Filibusters. And second, look at the bottom of the flier."

Ned did as he was told, taking the flier and scanning the bottom, his eyes widening. "A ten thousand dollar prize?"

"Yes."

"That's a lot of money."

"Yes."

"_A lot_ of money," The Pie Maker said, setting the flier down and looking around his empty restaurant. "But I can't enter the cook off."

Olive groaned and threw her arms into the air. "And why not?"

"I don't compete, it's not my thing."

"Ned, you either enter that cook off, or you cook yourself into bankruptcy."

The Pie Maker sighed, and looked at the flier, then to Olive, and then around the empty room they stood in.

"What if we don't win?" He said.

Olive smiled. "Who's says we won't?"

"What if we don't?"

"Then at least you can't say you didn't try." Olive stepped closer to The Pie Maker, tentatively she grabbed a hold of his hand. "Ned, think about it."

The Pie Maker sighed. His eyes drifted around the empty room, to Olive's face, then to her hand holding his, and finally to the flier sitting on the counter top.

"Okay."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! I do'nt know when I'll be updating again, but hopefully it will be soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Until next time!


	8. Chapter Eight: The First Time

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pushing Daisies. Wish I did…but I don't…

There's a reason Ned likes the Cook Off…

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Eight: The First Time**

"This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea."

Ned turned and started to walk away, but Olive Snook grabbed him by the arm and held him in place.

The Pie Maker and his lone employee stood in front of the entrance to The Papen County 15th Annual Comfort Food Cook Off. The Pie Maker regarded the door with frightened trepidation while Olive was all but bouncing on her heals; excitement shooting through her like rockets.

"Bad, bad, bad," Ned said again, shaking his head.

"Come on, Ned. Think of it as an adventure."

"But this isn't an adventure. Adventures are going to Disneyland and riding the Jungle Cruise. But this is the real thing, a trip down the Congo with crocodiles and elephants and water snakes and fish with giant teeth just waiting for you to fall into the water."

Olive, with her held tilted up, stared at The Pie Maker. Ned breathed heavily, having winded himself. Olive blinked.

"You really don't want to be here, do you?" She asked.

"No," Ned said defiantly, trying to walk around the petite blonde, but she held him in place. He groaned and shook his head.

Olive sighed, wondering what she could do to convince Ned that this was a good idea, besides the obvious fact that they could win some money for the restaurant. After a moment of nervous fidgeting on The Pie Maker's part, Olive decided to take the approach that her racing coaches often took with her.

She stepped onto the trunk they had brought with to carry all of their baking necessities. She grabbed Ned by the shoulders and turned him to face her. Ned's eyes widened as he found himself face to face with a determined looking Olive.

"You are a pie baker," Olive said.

It wasn't a question, but The Pie Maker found himself nodding along.

"You bake pie every day."

The Pie Maker nodded again.

"And not just pie, great pie."

"Sure," Ned responded.

"Heck! Not just great pie, but damn great pie! Right?"

"Olive I really don't think—."

"Ah, ah," Olive held up her hand, interrupting The Pie Maker's attempt at denial. She then placed her hands on Ned's shoulder, looking him square in the eye. "Damn great pie. Repeat after me. Damn. Great. Pie."

The Pie Maker's mouth quirked. "Damn great pie," he said quietly.

"That's right. Now you're going to go in there and you're going to bake your little heart out so you can win $10,000 so you can keep on baking for a very long time. Do I make myself clear?"

Olive was relieved to see that instead of a panicked no, The Pie Maker gave her his charming, shy, small yet very genuine smile. "Yes ma'am," he responded.

Olive smiled. "Good, now get in their and bake!" She said, pushing Ned towards the door.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this," Ned said over his shoulder as he opened the door for Olive.

Olive grabbed the trunk and pulled it behind her, walking into the cooking arena. "I promise you won't."

* * *

There was a natural instinct that had once been instilled in Olive Snook. It was an instinct born of horses and saddles and jockeys and tight pants. But it had grew beyond that which Olive had once known and now anytime the word "competition" was uttered, Olive found that her blood started to race, pumping adrenaline through her petite body. She would hunger. And at this moment, hunger she did.

Bright colors popped at The Comfort Food Cook Off. Each station was appropriately displayed to look like the establishment it represented. The mass of people surrounding Olive were adorned with matching uniforms. Different smells wafted through the air. Chicken mixed with cake. Breakfast foods mixed with dinner. But it was the most tempting smell Olive had ever sniffed.

But it would not be the foods baking that would satisfy Olive's hunger. It would be the big blue ribbon and trophy and check that would soon be handed to herself and her Pie Maker that would satisfy Olive's need to feed.

"Oh, we should have gotten uniforms," Olive said, snapping her fingers.

The Pie Maker looked down to Olive, his brow up. "Or not. Look there's our spot."

"Why not?" Olive asked, hurrying to catch up to Ned as he made way for their appointed cooking station. A perfectly adorned Mini-Pie Hole.

"Because that means we've given in to their conformed cooking competition. Something I refuse to do."

The duo arrived at their destination. Ned immediately began to inspect the kitchen they had been supplied with. Olive blinked, certain she had just witnessed the Pie Maker sniffing at the oven. She shook her head.

"First of all, that made no sense. Second of all, who's they?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

The Pie Maker shrugged. "You know, _they,_" he said, waving his arm around. He turned to face Olive, just in time to see two of their fellow competitors run by. The two ran straight for a single orange, the last remaining fruit of its kind provided by the competition officials. One competitor got their first, snatching the orange and running off. The other, with clenched fists, kicked the table and walked off. A Cook Off Official quickly came over with a new crate of oranges and set it on the table.

"Look at them. Reduced to something like that all for the sake of some silly competition."

"I thought you said you didn't mind competition."

"I like competition that involves a lot less angry and a little more happy."

Olive rolled her eyes. "A ten-thousand dollar reward competition doesn't include happy."

Despite the Pie Maker's constant refusal to like the competition he was currently partaking in, he found himself rolling up his sleeves; readying to bake. "But it's a cooking competition. Cooking should be three-fourths happy and one-fourth work—."

"I really hope you read that on a card and didn't make that up," Olive interrupted.

Ned frowned. "I'm just saying that when you bake with any other motive than _to_ bake, something bad always happen."

"You say that now," Olive said, hopping to a sit on their provided table "But when we walk away with that ribbon and trophy and money, you'll be itching to come back next year."

"I will not itch in any way shape or form and even if I did, _maybe_, have a tiny little itch I would ignore it and generously apply anti-itch cream."

Before Olive could respond with a witty comment about how the Pie Maker's previous metaphor was far too long and there for lost its appeal and effect; a very loud voice, twinged with a twang of Southern Comfort, interrupted their conversation.

"Yoo hoo! Hello neighbors!"

Olive and the Pie Maker turned, both jumping when they saw a woman dressed as a modern day Little Bo Peep standing at the entrance of their baking station. Olive's jump made her tumble off the table and into Ned. Slowly, The Pie Maker helped Olive off the table, as she whispered: "I thought Little Bo Peep kept sheep, not…meese."

The Pie Maker and Olive simultaneously eyed the moose atop their visitors hat.

"Um—hi," Ned said, awkwardly.

"Hello. I heard we would be getting some new fruitlicious pie baking competitors this year and I just wanted to be the first to welcome you to our baking neighborhood. I'm Marianne Marie Beetle, sole owner, director, and baker of Muffin Buffalo. Best muffins you'll taste this side of the Mississippi."

The Pie Maker stood, with his mouth slightly agape; staring.

Olive looked up to her much taller boss then back to the woman who recently introduced herself as Marianne Marie Beetle. Knowing her boss would not speak after being shocked by this woman's introduction, Olive stepped forward.

"Uhm—I'm Olive. Snook. And this is Ned—uh--," Olive turned to look towards The Pie Maker who was still looking slightly shell shocked. "Well this is Ned. We're from The Pie Hole," Olive said, holding out her hand.

Marianne Marie Beetle took Olive's hand. "Oh, The Pie Hole! I've been there quite a few times. You bake perfection if I do say so myself."

Normally, such a compliment would have left Olive with a grin on her face. But this current compliment left her in no such state. For as she had spoken Marianne Marie Beetle had slowly tightened her grip on Olive's hand, making the petite waitress grimace as her knuckles bumped and pain shot through her hand.

When the grip lightened Olive quickly retreated, giving Marianne a tight smile and then hiding behind Ned, nursing her wounded hand. "Are you alright?" Ned whispered.

"I dare you to shake her hand," Olive whispered back.

The Pie Maker looked puzzled has he too stepped forward. "It's, uh, nice to meet you Marianne."

"You too, Ned," Marianne replied, shaking Ned's hand.

The Pie Maker felt his face contort in pain as Marianne squeezed his hand beyond what was politely comfortable as she rambled on, wishing he and Olive luck. Ned's hand was finally released and he stepped back. "That was just mean," he whispered as he approached Olive, making sure that she was standing in front of him.

"If you need any help with anything y'all just let me know, we bakers have to look out for each other in a world of chefs."

"Ah, Marianne, I must say, that for just this once I couldn't agree with you more."

Olive, The Pie Maker, and Marianne Marie Beetle all turned to see Florence and Fillmore Fillibuster standing in the entrance of the Mini-Pie-Hole; faithfully wearing their red, white, and blue uniforms.

"Ned, dearest!" Florence exclaimed walking in and embracing The Pie Maker in an awkward hug.

"Hello Florence," Ned muttered.

"And his Olive!" Fillmore also exclaimed, grabbing Olive around the waist and all but picking her off the ground.

Olive grunted and gasped for breath. "Hiya Fillmore."

Fillmore released Olive before her feet touched the ground and she tumbled slightly. Olive straightened herself up and walked back over to Ned, placing the shy Pie Maker between herself and the three other occupants of the room.

Their greetings out of the way, Florence and Fillmore turned towards Marianne.

"Beetle." Florence and Fillmore said simultaneously.

"Filibuster." Marianne replied.

Fillmore turned to Olive and The Pie Maker. "I see you've met Marianne--."

"Our resident Cook Off neighbor," Florence added.

"I take it you three know each other," The Pie Maker said.

Olive snorted.

"We've built up a friendly little competition over the last few years we've attended the Cook Off," Marianne explained.

"Yes," Florence said, "Keeps things lively during the dull points of the day."

"Especially when you win," Marianne added. "Which I always do."

"Ah, not this year my dear muffin woman," Fillmore said. "We've found the perfect cake recipe that will top all this year."

"If we do say so," Florence spoke up. "It will take the cake."

The twins fell into two separate but very similar fits of laughter. "Tah fellow bakers!" Florence said.

"Time to set the ovens," Fillmore added. And like that, the always patriotically adorned twins disappeared.

"I would look out for those two," Marianne said, once the twins had disappeared. "Keep a close eye on your oven."

Olive and The Pie Maker simply nodded, eyes wide.

"Well, happy baking. Let me know if y'all need any help." With a wave, and a flourish of her skirt, Marianne Marie Beetle left the Mini-Pie-Hole, leaving The Pie Maker and his petite waitress alone.

"I'm beginning to understand your hesitance," Olive said, stunned like she always was after an encounter with the Filibuster twins.

"So we can leave?" The Pie Maker asked, hopeful.

"Not a chance," Olive said, grabbing an apron and throwing it at Ned. He caught it clumsily. "You heard the crazies, time to set the oven."

* * *

The Cook Off was in full swing. All around the area, chefs of all kinds, shapes, and sizes buzzed around their kitchens, mixing and blending to create the perfect culinary concoction. Olive and The Pie Maker stood in their kitchen, trying to do their best to avoid any sign of the Fillibusters and the newly acquainted Marianne Marie Beetle.

They stood at their cutting station, Olive cutting Sugar Apple while The Pie Maker prepared the crust.

From the apple box she was perched on, Olive paused in her cutting for the briefest of moments, shooting a sideways glance to Ned. She smiled.

His brow was furrowed in carefully concentration, a light sweat breaking across his brow. Olive was certain that The Pie Maker was the only person she had ever known who could concentrate so hard on cooking that they began to sweat. But, Olive supposed, if he needed that much concentration to create great pies, then so be it. Besides, it didn't hurt that the look on his face made him all the more adorable in Olive's eyes.

Olive giggled quietly and turned back to her cutting, thoughts of the Pie Maker allowing her mind to wander to the night before…

_Olive and Ned slowly walked to the front of Olive's apartment, their hands clasped together_. _Olive opened the door and the two stepped out into the hall._

_"Thanks for having me over for dinner, Olive," The Pie Maker said, turning to face his small companion._

_Olive smiled brightly. "Of course. You've taken me out these past few times, it was the least I could do."_

_"The spaghetti was delicious, I would love the recipe."_

_Olive held out her hand, pointed her finger, and shook it. "Ah ah, That recipe is one of the few I can successfully pull off. I'm taking it with me to the grave."_

_The Pie Maker smiled his shy smile, looking amused. "Then perhaps you'll just have to make it for us again some other time."_

_Olive beamed. "Now _that_, I can definitely do."_

_And like it always happened when they parted like this, Olive felt the air around them grow awkward and unsure, though never uncomfortable. _

_"Well, I'll-uh—see you tomorrow, Olive," Ned stuttered._

_Olive nodded. "Bright and early for the cook off."_

_The Pie Maker grew slightly pale and he shook his head. Oh, don't remind me."_

_Olive swung their clasped hands. "It won't be that bad. It'll be fun."_

_"Right," Ned reassured himself and Olive squeezed his bigger hand in her ownf. "Well, see you tomorrow."_

_Olive nodded, taking a step forward. "Tomorrow."_

_The Pie Maker nodded again, he too taking a small step forward. He hesitated, moving his head down slightly towards Olive before pulling back. Olive felt her breath hitch and stick in her throat. Could this be what she had been waiting for? Could this be the moment that she had been dreaming of since the first time she entered The Pie Hole and set her eyes on the Pie Maker?_

_Ned hesitated again, before swiftly lowering his head and placing his lips lightly on Olive's cheek, all the while squeezing her hand tighter. Olive's eyes fluttered shut. He pulled back slightly and whispered; "Goodnight Olive." _

_Olive shuddered, feeling his warm breath warm he cheek; the warmth quickly spreading through her whole body. She felt herself shudder._

_And just as quickly as the moment had happened, it ended. The Pie Maker quickly retreated into his apartment and shut the door before Olive even had a chance to open her eyes…_

"OW!"

Olive felt a sharp pain shoot through her finger and she dropped her knife, immediately bringing her finger to her mouth; she sucked slightly.

"What happened?" The Pie Maker asked, turning towards his waitress.

"I nicked myself," Olive mumbled around her finger, tilting her head towards the knife she had dropped.

Ned's eyes quickly widened. In a flash he grabbed Olive by the wrist, nearly choking her as he pulled her finger from her mouth. He dragged her to the sink, twisting the faucet to on and sticking Olive's hand under the cool water.

"Stay right here, don't panic," The Pie Maker said quickly, before her turned his back on Olive and searched through their cooking station for their First Aid kit.

Olive watched in amusement, doing as she was told and letting the water run over her, slightly, injured finger. "Ned," she said, quietly.

"Don't panic!" Ned called over her shoulder, rummaging through drawers and boxes.

Olive giggled quietly, she looked to her finger. The warm running water had washed away all the blood that had been there; if there had been any at all. But Olive stayed where she was, allowing The Pie Maker to rummage through the space, muttering about how the cook off was not only a bad idea, but obviously bad luck as well.

Suddenly Ned was back, turning off the tap and pulling Olive. He grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up and onto the table before Olive could even blink. He expertly opened the First Aid Kit, grabbing out gauze, bandage wrap, and tape.

"Deep breaths, Olive," The Pie Maker said quietly, focused on the task of wrapping Olive's finger.

In mere seconds the appendage was wrapped in white gauze, making Olive's petite finger look three times its actual size.

Olive held up her finger, looking at the giant bandage before looking at The Pie Maker. "Ned, I may be small, but I'm not five," she said, kicking her legs that hung from the table.

Ned froze, his eyes widening and he looked around before he let out a long breath neither of them had realized he had been holding and his head fell forward in laughter, his shoulders shaking in soft chuckles.

Olive felt herself swoon as she breathed in the soft smell of Ned's shampoo as he bent forward.

The Pie Maker looked up and smiled shyly. "I think this cook-off has gotten to me," he said quietly.

Olive nodded slowly, unable to speak. She felt her breath hitch and her pulse double at Ned's close proximity. They were almost eye to eye with Olive sitting on the counter, a feat near impossible with their incredible height difference.

"Must be all the cookies and pastries and cakes," Ned said after a minute.

"Oh my," Olive breathed.

Without a word, Ned picked up Olive's hand and began to unwrap her heavily wrapped finger.

Olive felt herself begin to tremble slightly. She became memorized as she watched Ned work. His features softening to a degree that Olive had never seen before. He unwrapped the bandage delicately, in a way that she was unfamiliar with; like he was handling a precious glass.

The world around her slowed as The Pie Maker finished what he was doing. Olive looked up, unable to tear her gaze from Ned's. He pulled the gauze away, letting it fall to Olive's side, but he kept his grip on Olive's hand, raising it higher to stare at her small injury. He smiled again and a grabbed regular bandage. He peeled back the paper and wrapped the band aid around Olive's finger.

"There," Ned said quietly. And Olive could only nod.

Before his could release his grip, Olive grabbed tighter to Ned's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Ned," Olive spoke just above a whisper.

"Yeah?" The Pie Maker responded, just as quietly.

"I uh--I...had a really great time last night." Olive knew she was speaking, but for the life of her she could not understand her own words, as the memory of the night before washed over her again.

Ned swallowed nervously and Olive watched as the muscles in his neck worked. She felt her own self gulp, becoming mesmerized with the near insignificant movement of the muscles that suddenly seemed so strong.

"Me too, Olive," he finally said after a minute.

Olive tore her eyes from Ned's neck and their gaze met; making Olive realize just how close they were standing. So, so, so much painstakingly closer than before.

The world around them froze, the smells disappeared and Olive was certain that the only sound was the beating of her heart. She took in a breath, but felt no air fill her lungs. She swayed and before she could stop herself, bent forward slightly; closing the distance between them.

Had she been thinking right, Olive would have imagined that her movement would have made the Pie Maker step back. And had she been thinking right she would have been surprised to find that instead of doing just that, The Pie Maker took a step closer; closing their distance even more. But Olive was not thinking right. She was not thinking at all. But she was very much aware that her breath was now mixing with Ned's, making her more acute then she ever had been before.

Olive senses shot up. Her hand tingled in Ned's, her heart swelled in her chest, her ears vibrated with the buzz of her own breathing and then…and then her lips warmed to Ned's.

It was like everything Olive had ever imagined and yet different. Everything, because his lips were soft against hers, tender, warm and welcoming. Different because this time, it was very much real.

The kiss lasted mere seconds. Ned pulled away and Olive's eyes fluttered opened. They looked at one another, neither speaking. Slowly, Olive brought her hand to Ned's cheek and pulled Ned closer again; their lips meeting in a second kiss.

They moved closer together, The Pie Maker's free hand dropping to the table, before he rested it against the small of Olive's back.

It was simple and sweet and tender and the perfect moment in their perfect replication of the perfect pie baking diner.

But because it was so simple and sweet and tender and the perfect moment in their perfect replication of the perfect pie baking diner, neither noticed one of their competitors sneak into their cooking space and sabotage their oven.

* * *

Olive and Ned parted, their eyes immediately finding each others. They both smiled, Olive's just as shy as The Pie Maker's usually was. She wasn't sure if she was breathing. She wasn't quite sure if she was even thinking. She was sure, though, that her heart had never been fuller than it was at this very moment.

"Something's burning."

Olive felt like she had been kicked in the gut. _Something's burning_ was not quite the reaction she had been hoping for. _Wow, unbelievable, I can't breath..._anything would have been better than _Something's burning._

Olive opened her mouth to respond, the action turning her body back on like a light switch, and suddenly she smelled it too. The awful, thick smell of charred food that usually accompanied any meal she had not yet mastered. She reluctantly tore her eyes from Ned's, searching for the source of the ghastly smell.

"The oven!" she said, pointing to appliance in the corner of their space.

The Pie Maker quickly turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the oven cooking in overdrive without any food to cook.

Olive and Ned jumped forward. "Turn off the heat," The Pie Maker said, grabbing a towel. He grabbed the open door of the oven with the towel and threw it closed.

"It's already off!" Olive said, quickly turning the knobs in the oven in every way, quickly realizing it was having no effect on the machine.

The Pie Maker took Olive by the waist and pulled her back from the burning oven. They watched as the fire died, its own oxygen supply cut off by the shut door. They waited for a minute, making sure the blaze had completely died before they slowly approached it.

Cautiously Ned opened the door. The fire had completely died, but the inside of the oven was left charred and black. Olive played with the temperature knobs, turning them all the way to the right then all the way to the left. Nothing clicked, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

"I think it's broken," Olive said.

For fifteen minutes The Pie Hole duo inspected their oven. Pushing and pulling, kicking it, turning it off, turning it on. And still, nothing happened.

"Did you notice anything earlier?" Ned asked.

Olive shook her head. "It was fine when I checked it a few minutes ago."

"We came as soon as we heard!"

Olive and The Pie Maker turned to see Fillmore and Florence Filibuster running towards their cooking station.

"Someone said they saw your oven on fire--," Fillmore said.

"So we came over as soon as we could," Florence finished.

"I heard there was a fire," Marianne Marie Beetle said, quickly coming over and joining the group.

The Pie Maker sighed, resigned. "Our oven."

"Not only did it catch on fire, but it's completely broken," Olive said, throwing down the towel she had been holding.

"You poor things," Marianne said.

"It won't work?" Florence asked.

"At all?" Fillmore added.

Olive and Ned shook their heads.

"Are you sure?" Marianne asked, walking over to the oven and looking at it.

"Positive," Olive said, miserably.

"You realize what this means," Florence whispered to Fillmore, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Fillmore nodded tragically, "No oven means--,"

"No pies," the twins finished together.

"What are you going to do?" Marianne asked.

"I suppose there's only one thing we can do," Ned said, walking up to Olive and placing his hand on her shoulder.

Olive groaned. "Quit."

* * *

Olive and The Pie Maker quietly cleaned their cooking station, packing away all of their supplies now that they had been forced to leave the competition.

"I'm sorry we can't compete, Olive," The Pie Maker said quietly, closing the lid of the trunk they had bought along.

Olive rested her hand on the oven and turned to Ned. "No you're not," she said with a crooked smile.

The Pie Maker smiled and chuckled. "But you're upset, so I'm sorry."

Olive's smile widened. "Thanks," she said even as she kicked the oven. Ned smiled just before there was a loud clanking sound. Olive jumped back and looked to the back of the oven.

"Oh my gosh, Ned!" Olive exclaimed, waving The Pie Maker over, pointing behind the oven.

The man quickly ran over, his jaw dropping at what Olive was pointing.

The both stared in shock at the back of the oven; or lack of back, as it had completely fallen off, loose wires hanging everywhere. Loose wires that had, quite obviously, been cut. Ned picked up a piece of the oven back and stared at it.

"The screws are missing," Ned said, surprise resonating through his words.

Olive stared, slack-jawed, only one thought coming to her mind. "Son of a witch with a 'B'."

* * *

All contestants of The Papen County 15th Annual Comfort Food Cook Off stood before the center stage, eagerly waiting to hear the announcement of this years "Best in Belly" winners.

At the insistence of their fellow bakers, Olive and The Pie Maker had been convinced to stay for the results, even though they would not be taking part in this year's celebration. They stood beside Marianna Marie Beetle and the Filibuster Twins, Ned with his hands clasped behind his back, Olive with her arms crossed across her chest.

Olive held her head high, letting everyone around her believe that she would be leaving this competition with dignity. But she knew better. It was not about dignity. No. Olive held her head high to sniff out the stinky stench of the person who had sabotaged their ovens.

"This year's Third Place Prize," the MC of the contest spoke into the microphone, "Goes to…Muffin Buffalo!"

Marianne's jaw dropped and the Filibuster Twins whooped quietly. Marianne shot them a glare, keeping her steady gaze as them as she walked up the stage to collect her prize. She accepted her prize and waved and bowed at her fellow cook off competitors.

The MC stepped back up to the microphone. "This year's Second Place Prize goes to…The Bureau Bakery!"

Florence and Fillmore threw their arms into the air, hugging each other tightly. Up on the stage Marianne scowled. The twins turned to Ned and Olive and all but forced them to give them high fives. From the stage, Marianne's eyes burned with anger.

"Whoop-di-doo," Olive muttered to Ned. The man smiled.

The Muffin Buffalo owner stepped down from the stage, holding her head high as she passed the Filibusters going to collect their own prize.

"Told you to watch your oven," Marianne whispered, gesturing to Fillmore and Florence on the stage, as she walked by Olive.

Olive quirked her head, following Marianne with her eyes as she walked away; having been hit in an odd way with the tone Marianne had spoken her last statement. She was only slightly aware that the MC was announcing Colonel Likkin's Southern Fried Chicken as the winner. Olive felt her jaw drop as she watched Marianne surreptitiously pull a pair of wire clippers out of the hidden confines of her puffy dress and throw them in the trash.

Olive's hand flew out, hitting Ned repeatedly to get his attention.

"What is it?" Ned asked, giving Olive his attention.

Olive pointed gaping, trying to convey what she had just seen. But it was too late. Marianne Marie Beetle had disappeared.

* * *

"I'm sorry we didn't win," Olive said later that night as she and Ned walked down their hallway to their apartments; The Pie Maker's hand placed delicately on the small of Olive's back.

"That's alright," Ned replied with a small smile and a shrug.

"But now you don't have the money for The Pie Hole.

The Pie Maker shrugged again, just as the two arrived outside of Olive's door. "We'll think of some other way."

"_We_ will?" Olive asked, smiling as she took hold of Ned's hand in her own.

Ned nodded and gave Olive's hand a squeeze.

"Well it's all the same," Olive spoke again. "I forced you to enter the contest and it was all for naught, just like you thought it would be."

The Pie Maker's smile widened. "I wouldn't say it was for naught."

Olive scoffed and roller her eyes. "Ned, I don't know what Cook Off you were at, but that was definitely--."

Olive was cut off as Ned bent forward, capturing her lips with his own in a tender kiss.

"Oh," Olive breathed when her lips had been released. "That."

"That," Ned replied before looping his arm around Olive's waist and pulling her to him once more.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Hopefully now that summer is here I'll be able to update more.

Thanks for reading and for the reviews!

Until next time.


	9. Chapter Nine: Restrain Me

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer:

Yeah, still don't own Pushing Daisies

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Nine: Restrain Me**

Olive Snook called him Sam Spade.

Sam Spade, as Olive referred to him in the safety of her own mind, was a customer at The Pie Hole. A customer who wasn't quite a regular, but regular enough to be familiar. She remembered the very first pie he ordered: blueberry. And had she named him from that first encounter she would have referred to him as Mr. ShortPants. Not because he actually wore short pants, but because he was often stand-offish and wanted nothing to do with anyone or anything other than the pie he ordered and the newspaper he read.

She called him Sam Spade because she didn't know his name or occupation, but he reminded her of a movie straight out of the 1930s--he always wore a coat, even though it wasn't that cold, and a fedora hat--one of those movies where detectives ran around the city looking for a mysterious girl who was the cause of all of his problems. She half expected Sam Spade to leave The Pie Hole after finishing his order saying something along the lines of "She may have been a dangerous girl, but she was my dangerous girl, and I was going to find her before someone else did."

Sort of like _Casablanca_…but not.

But he didn't leave The Pie Hole saying anything like Olive often imagined he would. He simply sat at his table, keeping to himself as he read the daily newspaper. Olive would try to talk to him but he would send her off to the kitchen with a quick, witty remark that often left her dumbfounded, trying to come up with a response all her own.

But it was on this day that Olive knew she would be able to come up with a witty response, because she had been waiting and was ready for Sam Spade's entrance. The minute the bell had rung with his arrival Olive had worked her mind; mentally preparing for the brush-of-the-shoulder remarks Sam Spade would send her way. With a nod of confidence she approached his table, the same booth by the door that he always sat at.

"Howdy-do," she said with a bright smile.

"You know, people don't actually talk like that," came the reply.

"Sure they do."

"No…they don't."

"Well I do," Olive replied and the man rolled his eyes. "What can I do you for today?"

"Rhubarb," Sam Spade said.

"A la mode?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Olive asked, looking up from the note pad she had been writing the order on.

"Is that a problem?"

"You've never ordered anything a la mode, before."

"You keeping tabs on me?" The man asked, his eyes turning suspicious.

Olive giggled. "No, just a good memory. How about a cup of coff—."

Olive was interrupted by a loud thud. She looked to the window, the source of the noise, while Sam Spade simply opened his paper and began to read; thankful for the distraction.

Olive felt her heart stop and her pulse quicken at the same time. There standing before her, looking through the window with his face pressed against the glass like a five-year-old, was someone Olive had never thought she would see again. It was impossible and it couldn't be. But it was. The man caught sight of her and waved, a big, goofy grin covering his face.

Olive's face blanched and she grimaced. The man pointed towards The Pie Hole doors and gave Olive a thumbs up before turning to enter the establishment.

"I'll—uh---pie," she quickly said to Sam Spade, who had missed the quick interaction between her and the man in the window.

Without thinking twice Olive turned and ran to the kitchen just as the bells above the door chimed.

* * *

Olive quickly walked into the kitchen, consciously restraining the movement of her arms; afraid that if she let them swing naturally she would take flight thanks to the sudden rise in her heart rate.

The Pie Maker looked up from his task of pie baking when she walked into the kitchen. He smiled and opened his mouth, ready to greet her. But before his breaths could be made into words, Olive grabbed his arm, yanking him into the far corner of the room. She tucked herself into the crease where the two opposite walls met, and positioned Ned right in front of her.

"Is everything alright?" Ned asked, obviously confused.

"Don't look now," Olive said, stern and slightly panicked. "But do you see that guy over there?"

With his face to a wall, The Pie Maker could see nothing. So her turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. Olive hit his shoulder with a dishrag.

"I told you not to look!"

"Olive who are you talking about?"

"The guy with the big bouquet of flowers and the teddy bear holding a heart."

Ned turned again, spotting the man Olive was referring to standing in front of the counter, looking around his the dining area.

"Would You Stop Looking!" Olive yelled through clenched teeth, hitting Ned with the towel with every word.

The Pie Maker jumped back from the abuse he was receiving from Olive and the dishrag. When he jumped aside, Olive panicked again, grabbing Ned and pulling him back so that he was standing right in front of her again.

The employer and the employee stared at one another.

"Olive," Ned said after a moment, "What about the man with the bouquet of flowers and the teddy bear holding a heart?"

"You need to ask him to leave," Olive said without missing a beat, her voice wavering slightly.

"Why?"

"Because," Olive replied through clenched teeth.

"He's not even eating pie yet," The Pie Maker observed with a quick glance of the shoulder again. He grabbed the dishrag before Olive could hit him again. "He looks like he just got here."

"That's right, he did just get here."

"So why do I need to ask him to leave? We need the business," The Pie Maker added the last statement with a pointed glaze.

Olive bit her thumb nail. "If you make him leave I'll go outside and drag someone else in and force feed them pie, if I have to. Please Ned."

"Olive, I can't just ask him to leave."

"_Yes, _you can."

The Pie Maker sighed. "Is he disturbing the public dining experience?"

"No," Olive mumbled.

"Then I can't ask him to leave."

Olive groaned. "But you have to Ned! I really don't want to have to call the police and make a scene."

"Why would you have to call the police?"

"Because he can't come within five hundred feet of me!" Olive suddenly blurted, grabbing the dishrag from Ned and stuffing part of it in her mouth.

The Pie Maker tilted his head to the side, brows drawn together in confusion. "Why not?"

Olive shook her head, eyes wide. Ned grabbed the dishrag and pulled it from her mouth, tossing it behind him. Olive looked down, picking at the hem of her dress, feeling her cheeks flush with what she was about to say.

"I kind of, sort of have a restraining order against him."

The Pie Maker felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop, certain it had hit the floor. "You have a restraining order against someone?"

"He's among the few, yes," Olive said, feeling her cheeks flush even more at the shocked look on Ned's face.

"How many is a few?"

"Um…several?" Olive said and Ned's eyes widened. "I lost count after seven."

"H-h-how do you get that many restraining orders against someone?"

Olive Snook sighed. She did not wish to tell The Pie Maker that the reason she had so many restraining orders was because she was once a jockey. A fact about herself he had yet to learn, as the pain of the Jock Off 2000 and the death of her horse Pi was still so new. So Olive simply said:

"From when I worked at the tracks. I guess I was a really good concessions girl."

And though this simple explanation was what she told The Pie Maker; the facts were, actually these…

_Billy Bodsworth, twenty-five years, two months, three weeks, and one day old, loved to gamble._

_He had been brought up, like his father and his father's father before him, that the best way to gamble was to gamble at the tracks. Bidding on horses was far more prestigious then a simple poker game, his father had told him. And so he quickly learned._

_Every Saturday of his childhood and so on was spent at the Papen County Tracks, watching races. He quickly learned the names of the best horses and jockeys. He learned their numbers and times. He learned at what point they would put in that extra spurt of speed that rocketed them into first place._

_He gambled smart. He always won._

_But it was on such a Saturday that Billy noticed there was a new racer amongst the seasoned and the greatest at The Papen County tracks. He checked his ticket. _

_Number Seven: The Pi and Olive Snook._

_He watched in amazement as the obviously feminine jockey raced her horse around the track, taking off right out of the gate and not looking back. He became even more amazed when she hopped off The Pi at the end of the race and took her helmet and goggle off, revealing the most beautiful face Billy had ever seen._

_It was at that moment that Billy decided to try a new form of gambling._

_For the next six Saturdays Billy bet on Olive Snook and never once did she let him down. He learned how she moved and the way she commanded The Pi into victory. She was graceful and amazing and Billy Bodsworth was certain he had fallen in love._

_On the seventh Saturday Billy approached Olive after her race, a bouquet of flowers at the ready to give to the beautiful jockey._

_"Hello," Billy said, holding out the flowers._

_"Hiya," Olive replied with a smile as she brushed down The Pi._

_"I—uh---brought these for you," Billy said, all but thrusting the flowers into Olive's face._

_"Oh, thank you…um…?"_

_"Billy. Billy Bodsworth."_

_"Thank you, Billy. I'm Olive. Snook."_

_"Yes," Billy said excitedly. "I know."_

_Olive smiled tightly and placed the flowers on a near by counter. She continued to brush The Pi._

_"That is, I mean…You're a great racer," Billy continued._

_"Well, thank you" Olive said again._

_Billy rocked on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, bye."_

_"Bye."_

_And Billy walked away, savoring his first meeting with Olive Snook._

_After that day he continued to watch her. Betting on her and winning. He soon learned the days she practiced and would sit in the stands, watching her push herself and The Pi until there was no energy left and they would leave the tracks with their competitive spirit and strength ringing in the arena._

_He left flowers for her after every race. And soon he began to leave messages with them. He talked to her, sometimes, if she talked back. But she always seemed to be occupied with making sure The Pi was fit and perfect. But that was okay, because Billy knew she needed The Pi like she needed her left leg._

_But then one day, the unthinkable happened. Olive came in second. Billy couldn't believe it. He was certain he was in more shock over the fact than she was. So Billy decided he would do what he could to console Olive over her loss._

_Billy decided to take another gamble and he followed Olive home, knowing the track was no place to be in order to help her heal her wounds._

_He approached her when she walked up to her front door, taking her wide surprised eyes for the sorrow over losing. He was upset, he said, because she had let him down by coming in second. But he would put aside his own sorrow, he said, so that they could both focus on hers._

_He placed his hand on her shoulder and Olive backed away. He grabbed her elbow, trying to let her know that he was there for her, and she kicked him. He fell to the ground and Olive ran, quickly unlocking her door and going inside._

_Billy got up, scrambling to his feet and lunging at the door just before it closed. He tried to push his way inside. Olive opened the door and he stumbled in. Before he realized what happened, she kicked him again and pushed him out, closing the door and locking it with a load click._

_He stood and pounded on the door. Trying to get Olive to open up. To let him so he could help. He just wanted to help, he yelled, because he loved her. _

_And then there were bright red and blue lights. And the police were dragging him away. Then there was the restraining order and the thought that he could no longer go near his beloved Olive hurt Billy more than anyone of her kicks ever had._

_For the first time in his life, Billy Bodsworth had taken an unsafe gamble. And he had lost._

Billy Bodsworth would become the first of many to fall under the racing spell of Olive Snook only to go overboard with their affection, receiving nothing but a signed restraining order in return.

"I have the right to call the police Ned. But I really don't want to cause a scene. So _please_," Olive said, "Just make him leave."

The Pie Maker looked at Olive's pleading eyes, realizing that the reason she did not want to make a scene was because she did not want to cause anymore trouble for himself or The Pie Hole. He also realized that she was quite embarrassed, because she was reliving a secret she had wanted to keep hidden in the deep, dark parts of her mind. And for that, he would grant her wish, because The Pie Maker knew better than anyone that everyone had their secrets.

"Okay, I'll make him leave."

Olive's face brightened. "Oh Thank you Ned!" she exclaimed, jumping and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks several times "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The Pie Maker chuckled slightly and set Olive on the ground. "You're welcome. Uh, what should I say?"

"I don't know, just get him out of here."

The two Pie Hole workers walked to the kitchen entrance. Olive hid behind the pillar, sticking her head out just enough to watch as Ned approached Billy Bodsworth.

"Um—hello, excuse me," Ned said. "I'm Ned and I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Olive shook her head at Ned's direct way of making the other man leave.

Billy looked at Ned and smiled. "I'm just looking for Olive Snook."

The Pie Maker's left eye twitched. "Olive doesn't work here."

Billy nodded. "Yes she does," he said. "I asked around. Besides I just saw her here a minute ago."

"Well, I'm sorry but she doesn't work here. Now I really do need you to leave," The Pie Maker responded.

"If she doesn't work here, then why I are you asking me to leave?" Billy asked pointedly.

Ned flustered. "I—uh—because we don't allow heart carrying teddy bears in here, I'm sorry."

Olive snorted.

"Look, I just want to see Olive and tell her how sorry I am," Billy continued, trying to look around Ned to see into the back. "There she is!" he said, pointing to where Olive was spying from.

Olive squeaked and disappeared from sight.

The Pie Maker sighed. "Sir," he said, lowering his voice so only Billy could hear him. "Olive is being kind enough to let you leave without notifying the authorities. I suggest you leave."

Billy sighed. "I suppose I know better than when to look a gift horse in the mouth." He laughed slightly. "Will you give these to her?" He asked, thrusting the flowers and the bear into Ned's arms. "Thanks. Bye Olive!"

Without another word, Billy Bodsworth left.

Olive waited until she was certain that Billy was long gone before joining the Pie Maker in the dining area.

"You don't think he'll come back, do you?"

"No—I—no, he won't," The Pie Maker said, shaking his head, though he didn't sound convinced.

There was a snort and Olive and Ned turned to see Sam Spade turn a page of his newspaper. "Oh he'll be back."

"And how would you know?" Olive said, placing her hands on her hips. From across the room another customer motioned for The Pie Maker's attention. He quickly walked over.

"Because," Sam Spade said, "I was forced to listen to the conversation Mumbly over there had with Flower Boy because I have yet to receive my pie. Pie that I would very much like…now."

Olive huffed. "What do you know," she said, walking to retrieve Sam Spade's pie.

* * *

Olive and The Pie Maker walked down the hall to their apartments.

"Thanks for helping me earlier, Ned." Olive smiled.

"Of course," Ned replied. There was a slight pause before Ned spoke again. "I—just—I want you to know that you can always…um, come to me when you need help."

Olive's smile widened. "I'll keep that in mind."

They reached spot in front of their respective apartments and faced each other.

"Well, good night," The Pie Maker said.

"Good night," Olive replied, standing on the tip of her toes to place a delicate kiss on Ned's lips.

The two smiled shyly at one another and retired to their apartments for the night.

* * *

Olive Snook woke to a _tap-tap-tap_.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, feeling a headache come on as the _tap-tap-tap_ became louder and more persistent. Groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes, Olive turned on her bedside lamp. She looked around her room, trying to locate the source of the noise.

"Jiminy Crispies!" she shrieked, when she saw Billy Bodsworth on the fire escape outside her window, desperately trying to get her attention.

"Olive!" Billy exclaimed, realizing she had finally woken. "Olive I just want to talk to you!"

Olive stared, frozen with shock as this man tried to get her attention. Until she noticed that Billy was trying to open her window. She jumped out of bed, stumbling and falling to the ground as her sheets caught on her legs.

"Olive please! I just want to say I'm sorry. Let me explain."

"No!" Olive called from the ground, desperately trying to kick off the tangled blankets.

"I love you, Olive!" Billy yelled.

"I don't even know you!" Olive replied, scrambling to her feet and running to the bedroom door, just as she heard the window give from Billy's strength and he entered Olive's bedroom.

Olive ran through her apartment, grabbing one of her dining chairs and throwing it behind her, hoping to keep Billy at bay. She undid the many locks to her apartment in record time, throwing open the door then slamming it behind her before running to Ned's.

She pounded the door with both fists, "Ned!" she called loudly, looking behind her to make sure Billy hadn't caught up just yet. "Ned! Wake up!"

She continued to pound on the door, mumbling under her breath: "Please don't be a heavy sleeper, please don't be a heavy sleeper."

There was a quiet movement behind the door and a bark. "Digby!" Olive yelled. "Go get Ned." She continued to pound.

After a moment the sound of locks unlocking pierced Olive's ears; and then The Pie Maker was standing before her. "Olive?" he asked, sleep straining his words; his hair standing on end.

"Ned!" Olive exclaimed throwing her arms around him just as Billy came bounding into the hallway, yelling, "Olive!"

The Pie Maker froze as the man he had thrown out of his restaurant looked at Olive embracing himself. Ned tightened his grip around Olive's waist.

"What do you think you're doing?" Billy asked, confused as Olive embraced another man.

"He broke in through my bedroom window," Olive whispered as she hid behind The Pie Maker.

"Um---I—think you should leave," Ned said to Billy, his voice cracking with sleep.

"What are you doing with Olive?" Billy asked steadily, taking a step forward, his eyes narrowed.

The Pie Maker's eyes widened and Olive squeaked. Without thinking Ned through his door shut, locking all of the locks quickly then grabbing a chair and jamming it under the handle. Olive shivered.

Ned grabbed Olive and led her to his couch, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "Just stay here," he said softly. Olive nodded and watched as The Pie Maker called the police as she one again listened to the sound of Billy pounding on a door that separated them.

* * *

Olive and The Pie Maker watched from the safety of The Pie Maker's window as Billy Bodsworth was led away by the police.

"Thanks," Olive whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. In all the years that she had acquired her several restraining orders none of the men they were against had ever tried to break into her house.

Tentatively, The Pie Maker placed his arm around Olive's shoulder in silent support.

"I suppose I should go back to my apartment," Olive said though that was the last thing she wanted. Despite the fact that she had just watched Billy Bodsworth carried away by the authorities, she was nonetheless scared.

As if he read her mind, The Pie Maker spoke. "If you're still worried, I suppose you could—uh." He coughed. "You could stay here, if you want."

Olive turned slowly, eyes wide. "You'd let me stay here?"

The Pie Maker nodded slightly. "If you'd like."

"I would," Olive replied, her voice meeker than Ned had ever heard it before. "If you've got room enough for me."

"You can—uh, take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh no, Ned I couldn't," Olive said, shaking her head vigorously. "It's nice enough of you to let me stay here for the night. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room."

"Really, it's okay. I--."

Olive stopped Ned by pinching his lips closed. "It's fine, Ned," she said, walking over to the couch and sitting down. She bounced slightly. "This'll do just fine."

"Are you sure?"

Olive nodded and smiled slightly. "Positive."

"I'll get you a pillow and some sheets."

The Pie Maker quickly disappeared and just as quickly reappeared with a pile of blankets and some pillows. "I'll let you get settled and go lock up your apartment, if you like."

"That would be great," Olive replied.

Olive set to work making her make shift bed while Ned went to lock up her apartment. She had just settled down on the couch and was lying down when Ned returned, setting her apartment key on the coffee table before her.

"Thank you, Ned," Olive said quietly, reaching out and grabbing Ned's hand.

"You're welcome," The Pie Maker replied, squeezing Olive's hand in reply. "You're sure you're comfortable?"

Olive nodded. "Good night…again," she said with a smile.

Ned laughed quietly. "Good night, again."

With a sigh Olive watched as Ned turned out the lights and disappeared into his bedroom.

* * *

Olive Snook could not sleep.

It was not because she was scared that Billy Bodsworth would come back. No. It was because that she was sleeping on The Pie Maker's couch, certain that she could hear his steady breathing through the all that separated them.

A single thought was running through her mind and try as she might, she couldn't make it go away. She knew she shouldn't act upon what she was thinking; as it had the potential to turn out just as bad as it had the potential to turn out just as good.

She knew she shouldn't...she knew she shouldn't, but she wanted to. And so she did.

Quietly, Olive stood up and walked to Ned's bedroom door. She tapped lightly on the doorframe. She watched through the moonlight as Ned rolled over and faced her.

"You okay?" The Pie Maker asked and Olive was surprised to find that he did not sound like he had been sleeping.

"Still freaked out, I guess," Olive replied, though she knew it was a lie.

The two stared at one another and Olive was certain that Ned looked even more charming in the moonlight than he did during the day.

Slowly, The Pie Maker shifted until he was against the wall, pulling back his sheets lightly. Olive wasted no time accepting the silent invitation. She padded across the floor and slipped into the bed, pulling the sheets up around them both.

She held her breath, not knowing what she was waiting for until she felt Ned's arm tentatively wrap around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. She let her breath free and relaxed; falling asleep instantly.

* * *


	10. Chapter Ten: Pie Squared

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pushing Daisies.

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
-C****hapter Ten: Pie Squared**

"We'll call it 'Pie Squared'," Olive Snook said.

The Pie Maker leaned against the counter, rubbing his forehead. "Pie Squared?"

"Yeah, you know. Like in math. Two slices of pie for the price of one."

"I'm not exactly sure how that works in math."

"It's a metaphor, Ned."

"I'm not exactly sure that's what it is, either."

Olive and The Pie Maker stared at each other across the counter. The open sign swung in the doorway, welcoming all of the customers that they did not have.

After a moment of silence, Ned spoke. "I don't know, Olive. Do you think it will really work?"

Olive sighed, wishing Ned would work with her a little more. "We might as well try. If it doesn't work, we'll try something else."

"I still don't know."

"Then, why don't you come up with a better idea?" Olive said, heatedly, becoming frustrated with The Pie Maker for the first time since she had known him.

"I don't have any," Ned said, defeated. He and Olive had been trying to come up with ways to bring in more customers for the past two hours, ever since they had opened shop for the day. Two hours of business and no business to speak of. The Pie Maker was debating closing early for the day; surely running the electricity would be far more costly, when no one came in, than just closing and not giving anyone a chance to come in at all.

Suddenly, Olive slapped The Pie Maker's shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"You going to work with me here?" Olive asked, looking annoyed.

"I just—maybe I should just close," Ned said miserably. "For good."

"No," Olive said firmly. "You are not going to just give him. You have to fight, Ned. You fight until the very end so you can lave with some dignity instead of walking away with your tail between your legs."

From his spot on the floor, Digby barked.

The Pie Maker groaned, burying his head in his hands.

Olive huffed. "As your best, and only, employee I think that leaves me to second in command when it comes to the chain of command. And as your second in command I'm putting into effect the Pie Squared sale."

Olive grabbed the many papers and pens in front of her and stormed towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Ned called after her.

Olive stopped and turned. "To make a sign."

* * *

The Pie Maker piled piece after piece of garbage into the trash, cleaning up his kitchen.

He paused and looked into dining area to see Olive pouring coffee for the few customers they had. She turned and spotted him, waving at him with a bright smile. Unable to help himself, Ned smiled and waved back; despite his dire economic situation Olive Snook was capable of making The Pie Maker smile with the simplest of gestures.

Ned placed the last of the garbage in the bin and grabbed the ends of the bag. He tied the garbage bag and pulled it out.

"Olive! I'll be right back!" He called into the other room.

"Sure thing!" He heard Olive reply as he walked out the back door.

The sun was bright, temporarily blinding the Pie Maker as he walked outside. Squinting his eyes to save himself from the glare, he walked around the corner of the alley to the large city garbage can. There was a light scuffling sound and Ned paused, looking around for the source of the sound. Seeing nothing he shrugged and continued towards the garbage.

And then, before The Pie Maker could realize what was happening, a strange and unexpected series of events occurred. Events, that he was certain, he would never be able to explain.

A body fell from the sky, or more realistically the roof top, landing squarely on the edge of the garbage can; a fall that would most certainly result in the death. But the body bounced back, just as Ned reached the can and The Pie Maker was overcome with an all too familiar feeling of bringing the dead back to life as the falling man's hand touched his forehead.

The Pie Maker stared in shock at the man before him, unable to believe that what had just happened actually had happened. The man stared back at him, equally as shocked to realize that he was alive again after having just died. And realizing that he was indeed, alive again, the man ran.

Without thinking The Pie Maker chased after the man, his long legs allowing him to catch the man just as he reached the street. Ned reached out, grabbing the man's collar and pulling him back until his was able to touch his face, instantly deading the man again—forever.

The Pie Maker shook out his entire body, not able to believe what he had just been forced to do. He quickly ran back to the garbage, throwing away the bag he and brought out and then ran back to The Pie Hole; never knowing that high from the roof top, someone else had been watching.

* * *

Olive looked up when the back door opened and Ned came running inside.

"Hey, do you think that—."

"Not now," The Pie Maker said, pushing back Olive and running to the sink. He quickly splashed cold water on his face.

"Are you alright?" Olive asked, concerned etched in her features and voice.

The Pie Maker moved his head, somehow managing to nod and shakes his head at the same time.

"Garbage smell that bad, huh?" Olive asked.

Despite himself The Pie Maker laughed. He shook his head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Olive asked, her voice quiet. She placed her hand on The Pie Maker's shoulder in support.

Ned sighed. "Just—give me a minute?" He finally said.

Olive smiled sadly but nodded. She walked away.

The Pie Maker exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. He did not like to bring the dead back to life. Nor did he like deading them again. At first, when discovering his unique gift, The Pie Maker had been intrigued. But as he grew and paid the consequences of his actions, he quickly learned that the gift of life was not one to be played with. So he made a silent vow. He would not use his gift to bring people back. He would simply stick to fruit, to ensure that his pies were baked with the freshest of fresh fruit. But people---never would he use the gift to bring a person back again.

But now he had. Even though it had been an accident, the Pie Maker was still shaken up. For the fact that it was an accident, seemed to make it all the worst, as that meant he had no control over it happening. A fact The Pie Maker was not pleased with.

There was a small tap on his shoulder and her turned to see Olive standing before him once again, a damp rag in her hand.

"I thought you might want this to cool down," she said, handing the rag to him.

The Pie Maker smiled shyly and took the rag, brushing his fingers against Olive's has he did so. "Thank you," he said.

Olive smiled.

* * *

Olive Snook flipped the open sign to closed.

Another night of closing duties, Olive turned and began to stack the chairs on top of the tables so she could sweep the floor. From her spot she could see The Pie Maker in the kitchen, working to clean up the small mess they had made that day.

Olive sighed.

Ever since he had come back from the alley earlier that day Ned had been out of sorts. He hadn't spoken much and was skittish. She had consistently asked him what was wrong, but every time he would shrug his shoulders. Must be coming down with a twenty-four hour bug, he had said. But despite his reassurance Olive didn't believe him.

Olive sighed again.

She had hoped that after their resent encounter with Billy Bodsworth they relationship would be different. Olive could have sworn she felt a change in it. But apparently she had been wrong. She had opened up to Ned about Billy and yet, despite all of her best efforts, The Pie Maker was still unwilling to share with her.

And that upset her more than the fact that Ned seemed to be hurting in the first place.

The bell above the door rang.

"We're closed," Olive said without missing a beat.

"Obviously."

Olive turned, surprised, to see Sam Spade standing before her.

"Then you'll forgive me for asking you to leave."

Sam Spade waved his hand, brushing away Olive's comment. "Where's the tall guy?"

Olive cocked her head to the side. "You mean Ned?"

Sam Spade sighed. "If I had known his name I would have called him by his name."

"Well now you know."

"Perfect," Sam Spade replied. "Now where is he?"

"Why do you want to know?" Olive asked, narrowing her eyes.

"It's a matter of business."

"I already told you we were closed."  
"My matter of business has nothing to do with your pie business," Sam Spade said. "Now where is he?"

"Olive is everything alright?" The Pie Maker said, walking into the dining area. He looked from the man he recognized as a customer to his waitress; brow knitted.

"Yes," Sam Spade said, stepping forward. "I was wondering if I could have a word."

"About?" Ned asked, looking to Olive. She shrugged.

"A certain matter regarding something I saw in your alley earlier today," Sam Spade explained, his tone and eyes leaving no doubt as to what he was referring to.

Olive's ears perked at the mention of the alley and she turned her full attention to Sam Spade, wondering what he would say next. Her attention was so focused that she missed the Pie Maker's face turning a deadly pale.

Ned coughed. "Right," he said. "Uh—Olive? Why don't you take off early tonight."

Olive quickly turned to The Pie Maker, surprised by his sudden offer to let her leave. "I don't mind Ned, I can stay," she quickly reassured, wanting nothing more than to listen to what this man had to say to her boss.

The Pie Maker quickly shook his head. "Really. I think you should take off. Don't worry about it," he said, his eyes pleading with Olive to take leave.

Olive held her ground, not wanting to back down. But then she saw the imploring look The Pie Maker was giving her and knew she would not be able to deny him.

Sam Spade coughed.

"Okay," Olive said, untying her apron and handing it to The Pie Maker. "Good night," she said to him. She turned to Sam Spade. "Bye." Sam Spade nodded in response.

With a sigh Olive walked to the kitchen, grabbed her purse and left, leaving the two men alone.

* * *

Introductions were made and The Pie Maker poured coffee.

Now the two men sat across from one another in a booth, both ignoring their cups of coffee.

"What can I help you with?" Ned asked, knowing what was about to him and wondering how he would get through it.

"I'll cut to the chase. I saw the little magic trick you did in the alley earlier today."

The Pie Maker gulped nervously and his eye twitched. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, you know exactly what I'm taking about. I saw a man fall off a rooftop and die. But he bounces into you and the next thing I know he's running down the street. Until you catch him and somehow dead him again. And don't deny it. I know dead, and that man is deader than I've ever seen."

The Pie Maker groaned, burying his face in his hands. This was the moment he had always feared. Someone finding out about what he could do. He would be branded a freak and now he was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the side show at the circus.

"What do you want?" The Pie Maker muttered, knowing that denying what he was just accused of would have been fruitless. He had been caught, there was no mistaking it.

"I want to make you a proposition. I'm a private investigator and a damned good one, don't get me wrong. But my job would be a hell of a lot easier if I had someone like you."

The Pie Maker's head snapped up. "Wha-what?" he asked, stunned at what he had just heard. Blackmail, he would have expected. Not a business proposition. "What kind of business?"

"You tell me. What's the extent of your little trick?"

The Pie Maker stared at the man across from him. Unsure what he should do. This man knew something was different about Ned. But he didn't seem to be threatening. Curious yes. Intrigued. And even interested. But threatening, no. "Hold on," Ned said, standing and walking into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a bowl of dead fruit. He set the bowl on the table and sat down.

He took in a deep breath and touched one of the rotten fruits. It instantly ripened, blossoming into a color that fresh fruits would be jealous of. Waiting just long enough for his companion to see what had happened, he touched the fruit again and it withered to what it had been before.

"Can you do that again?"

Ned shook his head. "Not to this one," he picked up the fruit he had touched and then touched again and tossed it to the other man. "Second touch, dead again. Forever. Now what kind of business proposition are you talking about."

"Murders are much easier to solve when you ask the victims who killed them."

The Pie Maker's eyes widened. "You want me to touch victims so you can find out who killed them?"

"It would be a lot easier that way."

"I don't know…"

"Oh come one, what have you got to lose?"

"Didn't you say you were good at what you did?"

"Hell yeah I am. But why stick to that way when I've got a sure fire guarantee as to finding out who done it before someone else?"

The Pie Maker sighed. "I still don't know if I can do that."

"I'll give you fifty percent of all of reward money for each case. And believe you me, fifty percent is a nice chunk o' cash."

The Pie Maker shook his head. "I just—I don't think I can. I don't like…touching things."

The other man sighed and stood up, placing his hand on his head. "You don't want in? Fine, I'll keep your talent a little secret in case you change your mind. But I thought I'd be doing you and I a favor." With a nod, he turned towards the door.

The Pie Maker gulped, not knowing what to do. He watched the other man ready himself to leave and slowly walk towards the door. He looked around his Pie Hole, just as empty closed has it had been open. _Believe you me, fifty percent is a nice chunk o' cash_.

"Fifty percent?" Ned said, standing up.

The man turned and smirked. "Fifty percent."

The Pie Maker stepped forward, his hand extended. They shook hands. "Then you should know," he said, his voice wavering. "There are some rules."

* * *

Olive Snook waited by her door, periodically looking through the peephole.

At nine-thirty she finally saw what she had been waiting for, as The Pie Maker walked by, slowly making his way to his door.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, Olive opened her door. She frowned when she noticed that Ned was having problems getting his key into the lock.

"Everything okay?" Olive asked quietly.

Ned jumped slightly and turned, offering Olive a small smile. "Sure."

Olive wanted to ask what had happened with Sam Spade. She wanted to know if it was bad or good. But the weary look in Ned's eyes kept her mouth closed. She knew he wouldn't want to talk about it. He would simply want to go to bed and sleep the rest of the night away.

Without a word, Olive stepped forward and took the key from Ned's hand; surprised to find that he was shaking slightly. She unlocked his apartment and opened before turning back and handing the key over.

"Thanks, Olive," The Pie Maker said, taking the key with a smile.

"Sure thing," Olive replied.

"Good night." The Pie Maker reached out and grabbed Olive's hand, squeezing it slightly.

Olive blinked and opened her to see the door close. "Good night," she whispered to no one but the night.

* * *

The next morning Olive was scrubbing down the counter, having just made a pie she hoped turned out decent.

"Hey Olive?" The Pie Maker asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Hm?" Olive inquired, not looking up from her task.

"There's someone I want you to meet."

Olive paused and turned, surprised to see that Ned was not alone, but accompanied by Sam Spade.

"This," The Pie Maker said, "Is Emerson Cod. And from now on, he eats for free."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well there's the next chapter. Hope you liked this chapter! I don't know when I'll be updating again.

Thanks for reading and a reviewing.

Until next time!

Kate.


	11. Chapter Eleven: So It Begins

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Pushing Daisies

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry this has taken forever to get up. I'm going to try to write some more since it is actually summer. Please read on and enjoy!

* * *

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Eleven: So It Begins**

Olive Snook was unsure of what to make of one Emerson Cod.

He was an interesting man. When she had known him as Sam Spade she had been intrigued. His nonchalant, uncaring attitude had been a wonder. But now, as she got to know him a little more, with his daily visits, she quickly came to find his nonchalant, uncaring attitude a bit tiring. Not only was his attitude becoming tiring, but his mere presence was as well.

Every day started anew. She would walk into work, feeling bright and happy. It was a new day, she would tell herself, and things would be different. But they never were. At some point during the day Emerson Codd would arrive, claiming he required Ned's help at a convention. And Ned would leave, with a quiet smile and nod in Olive's direction, leaving her alone with the pies, the few customers they had, and Digby.

The Pie Maker would return a few hours later, looking disheveled and sea sick. He'd usually mutter a quick "hi" and then walk back into the kitchen, quickly donning his apron to work again. On a few occasions, Ned returned long after The Pie Hole had been closed. He would knock on Olive's apartment door, utter an apology, a quick kiss on the cheek, and then he would be gone again, taking Digby back to his own apartment.

One day not too long before the present, Olive had been feeling sick of looking after The Pie Hole alone, so she had cornered The Pie Maker in the kitchen, demanding to know why these new conventions were so important.

_I don't understand why you have to go to one nearly every single day,_ she had said.

_They help suffering businesses get back on their feet before they go under, _The Pie Maker had replied.

_I don't want to see The Pie Hole die anymore than you do, Ned,_ She had replied, _But conventions aren't going to bring life back to this place. _The Pie Maker had blanched at her statement. _Customers are._

_They are helping Olive, trust me. They are._

Olive had groaned. _How?_

The Pie Maker hadn't responded, making Olive groan in frustration.

_You know, you're not even the convention type of person._

The Pie Maker had looked intrigued. _And who is?_

_Conventional people. And I'm sorry to tell you, but you are anything but conventional._

Olive hadn't waited to hear The Pie Maker's response, as the bell above the door had signaled a new customer's arrival; but she was certain that she had heard him respond in a quiet voice: _I know._

But despite her growing frustration over The Pie Maker's disappearances, she found herself unable to deny him. She could never say No to his usual, "Can you watch the place while I go with Emerson for a bit?" She could never say "If you leave now, then so will I."

She could only nod, sadly; her want to impress the Pie Maker growing with every single moment. Wanting him to know that she would be there to support and help him, if only he would allow her to. But maybe this was his way of needing her help, she often reasoned. He needed her to take control of his beloved pie palace while he went off to learn how to keep said pie palace running.

So Olive began each day with a smile. Trying to tell herself that she would accept Emerson Cod's sudden interest in their lives. But every day, Emerson Cod would enter The Pie Hole and offer Olive a snide remark at her peace offering; then he would leave with Ned in tow, leaving Olive alone.

Olive Snook began each day with a smile. But each day she became more and more certain that something fishy was going on. And oh, how Olive Snook hated fish.

* * *

It was a rare day at The Pie Hole.

Emerson Cod had arrived in the morning to simply eat a piece of pie. There was no parading The Pie Maker off to some other convention. Just pie. And coffee. And his usual newspaper. And so The Pie Maker had stayed at The Pie Hole that day, actually working the whole day through. And Olive was happy to say that the pies tasted much better than they had the past week.

"I must say, the pies are tasting a lot better today than they have all week," Olive said, rolling out dough, with a smile on her face.

"Oh?" Ned replied with a chuckle.

Olive hummed her agreement. "I just don't have your special touch."

The Pie Maker dropped the pie he had been carrying. Olive jumped.

"What did you do that for?"

"Just—lost my grip," Ned replied, his left eye twitching. Olive narrowed her eyes.

"Did you know I can tell when you're lying?" Olive said nonchalantly, continuing to roll out her dough.

"You can?" Ned asked, from his spot on the floor as he wiped up the ruined pie.

Olive hummed her agreement again. "You're eye twitches."

"It does not," The Pie Maker said, standing. His eye twitched.

"Sure it doesn't," Olive said with a laugh. She turned to grab a clean pan to put her dough in.

"Hey Olive?" The Pie Maker asked, wiping his hands clean.

"Yeah?"

"I was—um—wondering if maybe you'd like to come over to my place for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, just uh—maybe we could order some pizza and watch a movie?"

Olive dropped the dough into her pan. "Really?"

The Pie Maker looked confused. "Well, yeah."

Olive's smile brightened. "I'd like that."

Ned smiled. "Then it's a date."

Olive's smile widened. With his increasing time spent with Emerson Cod, Olive was beginning to wonder if The Pie Maker even remembered she still existed. But with one single question, he had inadvertently reassured her that he did remember she still existed. A very good fact, indeed.

* * *

"I don't understand foreign films," Olive said through a mouthful of pizza.

"Maybe because they are in a different language?" The Pie Maker responded.

Olive swallowed her mouthful. "Ha. Ha. Ha." She took another bight. "I _mean_, why would I want to watch a movie in another language when I have a hard enough time following movies _in _English."

"I would think the subtitles would make it easier then."

Olive waved her hand in the air. She swallowed again and took another bight. "I can't multitask."

"It's not that hard," Ned said with a laugh.

Instead of responding Olive grabbed the television remote off the coffee table and changed the channel, effectively ending the French ramble that had been blaring through the speakers. She paused on another channel.

"Now this," she said, taking another bight of pizza. "This is a good movie."

"It's _The Lion King_," Ned said.

Olive picked up her can of soda off the table and raised it to the television in a toast. "A fine piece of Disney filmmaking."

The Pie Maker laughed and shook his head. Timon and Pumba were just about to begin serenading a young Simba with "Hakuna-Matata" when there was a knock on Ned's apartment door.

"Be right back," Ned said. Olive simply nodded, enjoying her pizza as she tapped her foot to the music playing on the T.V.

Olive's attention was quickly drawn from the television before her to the whispering in the hall. There was something oddly familiar about the whispering that seemed out of place in Ned's apartment.

A moment later, The Pie Maker returned, standing awkwardly in the entry way to the living room. Behind him Olive could see an irate looking Emerson Cod. She felt her heart drop.

"Olive," The Pie Maker spoke apologetically. "I have to go, can you watch Digby?"

Olive was barely able to nod before Emerson grabbed Ned and the two left, without so much as a backwards glance. Olive sighed and slumped into Ned's couch. She looked to Digby. "Looks like it's just you and me again, Digby," she said, scratching the dog's head.

Digby barked.

Olive sighed and turned off the television; wondering if Hakuna Matata really did exist.

* * *

The next morning Olive was quietly refilling the sugar dispensers as The Pie Maker readied the first pies for the day.

Since his return the night before the atmosphere between the pie baker and his lone employee had been odd and tense. Ned had offered Olive a sincere apology upon his return last night. But despite his efforts, he had been unable to sway Olive's despair, just as Olive herself had been unable to shake it from her being.

One could only take being alone so many times, especially when the one leaving you alone was the one you wished to spend your time with.

Olive sighed and grabbed another sugar dispenser, just as the bell above the door rang. She looked up and felt her spirits drop further when Emerson Cod walked into The Pie Hole.

"Where's Pie Boy?" he asked without preamble, sitting at the counter.

"Out," Olive replied shortly, not caring that she was lying.

"No he's not," Emerson replied.

"Yes he is," Olive insisted, indignantly.

"Ned doesn't go out."

"Yes he does."

"The only time that guy gets out is when I have to drag him out," Emerson said.

"Don't act like you know him," Olive scoffed. Her tone clearly indicating that Emerson should not act like he knew Ned, because he didn't; but _she _did.

Emerson's brow rose as he looked at Olive quizzically.

"What?" Olive snapped.

Emerson held up his hands in defeat. "I didn't say nothin'."

Olive harrumphed and turned her back on Emerson to start brewing the coffee for the day.

"Where's Ned?" Emerson asked again after a moment's silence.

Olive groaned and shook her head, keeping her back to Emerson Cod; an act of defiance, she told herself. "I already told you he's---."

"Olive have you seen my--." As if on cue, The Pie Maker walked into the dining area. He paused when he saw that Olive was not alone. Emerson looked curiously at Olive who merely scowled.

"Emerson," The Pie Maker said in surprise.

"We have to go," Emerson said, standing again. He nodded at Olive and left without another word, waiting for Ned outside.

"Just go," Olive said, before Ned could even ask if it were alright for him to leave her alone for the day.

"Olive," The Pie Maker began, his voice carrying the remorse he felt.

"Digby and I will be just fine," Olive added, not in the mood to hear what anyone, even Ned, had to say on the matter.

"I'll be back later," The Pie Maker said quietly, untying his apron and setting it on the counter. Olive simply nodded, sending Ned on his way without a word.

When the door was closed and Olive was certain Ned and Emerson had gone, she finally turned around, staring at the empty room. Being left alone the night before had been enough, but being left alone again not even twelve hours later left Olive with a burned heart. She felt her blood begin to boil as her despair quickly turned to depression.

"Leave me once," Olive said to the empty room. "Shame on you. Leave me twice shame on---shame on---," she paused and looked around the room. "Then shame on you!" she finished, yelling at the door.

As the room was empty and quiet, she received no answer. Digby merely yawned. Olive huffed and grabbed Ned's discarded apron, throwing it across the room.

"Digby," she said, untying her own apron and throwing it down, "We're going for a walk."

She stomped into the kitchen and grabbed her keys, purse, and Digby's leash. She led the dog outside, told him to sit and locked up The Pie Hole. She hooked Digby to the his lead and began to walk. If she was going to be alone today, then so would be The Pie Hole.

* * *

After an hour of aimlessly walking around town Olive returned to the street that housed The Pie Hole.

But instead of making way for the pie-heaven haven, she veered left making way to The Bureau Bakery. While she didn't normally go into the bakery willingly, she felt the strong need to be around another human being—there was only so much ranting she could do to a dog—and Florence and Fillmore were her only choices left. Unless she left the city and went home, but hearing her parents complain about her quitting racing was not the human interaction she craved at the moment. So crazy Fillmore and Florence would have to do.

There were a few things that Olive noted as she approached The Bureau Bakery that seemed odd. First was the fact that the lights were dimmed. The twins were never one to let a day go by without making some money. Second was the fact that even though the lights were dimmed, the open sign was flipped in the window. The third was that, along with the sign, the doors were unlocked.

Olive carefully opened the door and looked inside; it was eerily quiet and lacked the smell of fresh baked goods. She pushed the door all the way open and she and Digby carefully stepped into the bakery.

Her heels echoed as she walked across the floor, Digby's nails echoing the sound. Suddenly there was another faint clicking sound, making Olive freeze. She looked to the floor, to see if she had stepped on something—but she hadn't.

"Florence? Fillmore?" she called, her voice wavering slightly.

There was a quiet shifting from the back of the bakery. Slowly, Olive could see a head peek its way from around the doorsill, only revealing a forehead and eyes. The eyes blinked a few times before disappearing all together. Seconds later Florence revealed herself, a tight smile plastered on her face.

"It's merely Olive, dear brother!" She called over her shoulder. Olive tilted her head, looking at Florence through narrowed eyes. Something was different about her. And then it hit Olive, she wasn't wearing her usual tall top hat. Olive was surprised to find that Florence actually looked shorter without the hat on. No sooner had she thought the words, did Florence magically make her hat appear—from where, Olive would never guess—and put it on her head. _There_ was the Florence Olive was used to seeing.

A second later, Fillmore appeared wiping his hands on a towel that he quickly discarded. "Olive! A pleasure as always."

"And she brought a friend," Florence added, pointing to Digby with her foot. "What's his name? Donut?"

"Digby," Olive replied, matter-of-factly.

"Ah yes, quite right you are," Fillmore said.

"Why are your lights off?" Olive asked, looking around the room.

"What was that?"

"Hm?"

The twins answered at the same time, Fillmore stuffing his hands in his pockets while Florence fixed her hat again.

"Your lights," Olive said, slowing her speech as if she were talking to a small child. "Why are they off?"

"Oh!" Florence exclaimed. "Silly us."

"We've been so caught up from a busy weekend that we forgot it was Monday," Fillmore added.

"But it's Wednesday," Olive said slowly.

"Fillmore I do believe we are more caught up in our weekend then we thought."

"It would seem so Florence, it would seem so."

Olive looked back and forth between the twins, her eyebrows raised high. The twins stared back, bright tight smiles covering their faces. Florence hummed quietly and Fillmore winked.

Yes, how Olive Snook hated fish.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I hope you enjoyed Chapter Eleven! I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully it will be soon. Definitely a lot sooner then this one was up.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Until next time!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Help Me Help You

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Pushing Daisies. Nope, Nope, Nope.

**Before We Say Goodbye-  
****-Chapter Twelve: Help Me Help You**

Olive Snook was certain the world around her was turning into the Twilight Zone.

Either that or she had already entered it.

If Olive thought the first two weeks of The Pie Maker's involvement with Emerson Cod was odd and off putting, nothing could have prepared her for the days that followed. Ned was spending less and less time at The Pie Hole. So much so, that Olive was beginning to feel more like the owner of the pie establishment. And when he was present, The Pie Maker was either jittery or so much involved in himself and his pie baking that he hardly noticed when Olive entered the kitchen.

It was only at night, when the two walked home—an occurrence that rarely happened—that Olive got to talk to Ned. There was conversation that resembled something closer to what used to be before Emerson Cod made his sudden appearance in their lives. Though, she had to admit, even then The Pie Maker was more aloof then he usually was…and that was saying something.

As her time spent with The Pie Maker dwindled Olive found herself spending more and more time with the Filibuster Twins. A fact that she held with certain distain as the Filibusters weren't exactly her favorite people, but they were still somewhat of a constant to the short life she had experienced upon moving into town. But even they were acting odder then usual…which was _really_ saying something.

So Olive often found herself in the company of Digby. The ever faithful dog never left her side, if he needn't have to, and preferred a good belly rub every now and then. Preferring the company of a K-9 to humans probably wasn't healthy, Olive knew, but at least _he_ wasn't crazy.

…Or so she hoped.

"Isn't that right, Digby?" Olive asked, moving her rook across the chess board.

Olive and Digby sat at her dining room table, a chess board laid out between them. Olive was black. Digby was white.

"You're move," Olive said. Digby stared at her, his tail swishing back and forth in a steady beat. "I'd suggest moving your knight. You'd put my King in check."

Digby took in a deep breath and puffed out the air. Olive supposed it wasn't healthy talking to Digby. But she was certain that this was the most stimulating conversation she'd had all day. (Unless you counted the jumbled conversation she'd had with Florence, as the woman half hung from her ceiling as she installed a light--or something or other).

Besides, Olive reasoned, she was certain Digby could understand her. Even if she couldn't understand him.

"No?" Olive asked. She reached across the board and moved Digby's bishop.

Digby barked.

"And….Check Mate," Olive said, moving her queen across the board. "I win." She smiled smugly at Digby.

Digby barked again and jumped off the chair. He walked away.

"Sore loser," Olive muttered under her breath, clearing the board and putting all of the pieces away.

Digby returned a minute later, his leash in his mouth. He set the leash at Olive's feet and sat down.

"And what if I didn't want to go for a walk?" Olive asked, her hands akimbo. Digby barked. "I swear it's like you're walking me instead."

Olive bent down and ruffled Digby's ears as she clipped the lead into place. Just as she was about to grab her coat there was a knock on the door. The petite woman stood on her tip toes and peered through the peep hole. The gangly features of The Pie Maker stood on the other side.

"Hiya," Olive said brightly, opening the door.

"Hi," Ned said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How was your convention?" Olive asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Like any other," The Pie Maker replied, sounding tired.

"Did you want to come in for a minute?"

The Pie Maker shook his head. "I just came to get Digby."

"You look exhausted," Olive said quickly, though it wasn't a lie, trying to find any reason to keep Ned with her longer. "Would you like to come in a minute, I was just about to make something to eat." That _was_ a lie. "You're welcome to join me."

Ned shook his head again. "I'm fine. I'll just take Digby and go, I'm sure you're tired of watching him."

"Oh I don't mind," Olive said.

Digby barked.

"Come on Digby," said The Pie Maker. Digby obeyed immediately, walking out of Olive's apartment and to his own that he shared with Ned; the leash dragging on the ground behind him.

"Thanks for watching him again. And for closing up tonight."

Olive shrugged her shoulders. "Glad I could help."

The two looked at one another. Olive shifted to rest her weight on her foot. The Pie Maker stuck his hands in his pockets. Olive closed her eyes, waiting for the small peck of a kiss that Ned would place on her check; like he always did when he came to pick Digby up late.

But to her surprise, Olive did not receive a kiss on the cheek. She was met with nothing but the caress of the air around her. Her eyes blinked open, just in time to see The Pie Maker's apartment door close.

* * *

The next morning Olive Snook walked into The Pie Hole, a picture of solemnity.

Her mind still reeled with the non-kiss that had happened the night before. Her heart sank at just the thought of it. Olive had thought that she and Ned had had something good going. Sure, they hadn't spent a lot of time together lately, but the non-kiss left her feeling depleted. She told herself she was being silly. That it had only happened once; an isolated event. Yes, it was an isolated event, she convinced herself. The nothingness that had happened meant nothing.

Olive walked through the back door and into the kitchen. She took off her coat and placed it and her purse on an empty shelf. She walked to the sink and began to wash her hands, a daily ritual she had started upon working at The Pie Hole. Just as she began to dry her hands, the Pie Maker walked into the room, an excited smile on his face as he made way towards Olive.

"Hi," Ned said, his tone sounding unusually cheery; carrying a box.

"Hiya," Olive replied, finishing with the towel and throwing it onto the table.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

Olive felt her heart leap. Usually the words would cause her to panic. But here and now, with the tone of The Pie Maker's voice sounding pleasantly happy, she felt hope. _Thank you Pie Gods, _Olive thought,_ All is not lost._

"What is it?" Olive asked, hopping up so she was sitting on the big metal table that they usually worked on.

The Pie Maker set the box down next to Olive. He rummaged through it before pulling out an orange piece of cloth and a green piece of cloth. Olive looked at the cloths, quickly realizing that they weren't just simple cloths, but dresses; two identical dresses save for their color.

"What do you think?" The Pie Maker asked.

Olive quirked her brow. "Ned, are you trying to tell me something?"

Ned's brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. "No," he said, his tone making the statement a question. He looked at Olive, confused; Olive tapped her fingers on the table, raising her eyes higher. Ned's eyes widened. "No! No," he shook his head. "They are for you." He thrust the garments forward, nearly stuffing them into Olive's face.

"For me?" Olive asked, quizzically. She took the dresses and examined them closer. They were pin striped, long white, thin pins running down the lengths of it; with a zipper at the chest.

"For when you work," Ned said. "I thought they were nice."

"Uniforms?" Olive said, trying to hide her shock and even, she noted, a small amount of disgust.

"You don't like them," Ned said. It wasn't a question.

Olive Snook did not know what she thought. So instead, she replied with the only thing that came to her mind: "How can we afford these?"

The Pie Maker became even more confused. "What?"

"Ned, I was doing the books yesterday. We hardly have a budget for…_uniforms_."

Ned looked relieved. "Oh---you don't have to worry about that. We've got enough money."

Olive's brow rose even more. "I know you haven't exactly been around a lot lately—." At her comment the Pie Maker shifted uncomfortably. She smiled inwardly at her own subtle dig. "But business hasn't exactly been any better then it used to be."

"Don't worry about that, Olive."

"Don't worry about what?"

"We've got enough money."

"And how is that?"

The Pie Maker shrugged and his eye twitched. "I told you, the conventions are helping."

Olive huffed slightly and stared and Ned, her eyes narrowing. Neither said anything for a minute, the two simply staring at one another; Olive waiting for Ned to tell her more, and The Pie Maker relenting nothing.

"So will you wear them?" Ned finally asked, motioning towards the uniforms.

Olive sighed and looked at the dresses in her hands then up to The Pie Maker's hopeful face. "Sure," she said, sounding defeated.

The Pie Maker smiled. "I'll go ready the dining room if you want to get started in here."

Olive nodded as The Pie Maker left, staring at the dresses in her hand instead of his retreating form. Olive put the garments back into the box and set the box off to the side of the room; feeling, for the first time since her arrival at The Pie Hole, like a true employee.

* * *

Two days later Olive was furiously wiping down the counter in The Pie Hole.

She had just flipped the sign in the window to closed; happy to say that the day had finally ended. She huffed and readjusted the top of her orange uniform dress that she was wearing.

"Most uncomfortable, damn, stupid, itchy, dress," she muttered angrily, furiously returning to her scrubbing.

If she hadn't been so taken with The Pie Maker she would have told that he could shove the uniforms down the garbage disposal; they were so uncomfortable.

She sighed and wiped her brow, of course he fowl mood wasn't helping any, she knew.

The day had been awful. There had actually been a fair amount of business today. But right during the midst of the chaos, The Pie Maker had left with Emerson Cod, claiming it to be of great importance.

"Important my orange clad tush," Olive muttered under her breath.

There was a quiet shuffling and a few seconds later The Pie Maker unlocked the front door and came in, quickly turning to lock the door again behind him. He took off his coat and carelessly threw it on the closest booth. He shook out his whole body, before wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing them quickly. He put a chair down and sat at the table, rubbing his face.

He looked miserable.

"What's with you?" Olive asked, despite her own sour mood.

The Pie Maker shook his head, burying his head in hands even further. He said nothing.

"And I'm the Queen of England," Olive said, stepping around the counter and over to where the Pie Maker was sitting. She took the flipped up chair off the table and set it down, sitting opposite Ned.

Despite the fact that Olive had been frustrated, the sight of this disheartened Ned had pushed her own mood away; her focus suddenly becoming the Pie Maker. It was a reaction she could not control—it just happened.

"Ned, something is wrong," she said quietly. "Let me help?"

The Pie Maker finally looked up, his tired eyes bearing into Olive's. "There's nothing you can really do to help," he said, "But thanks."

"There has to be _something_," Olive said, surprised that she sounded like she was pleading. "Anything."  
"I'm just tired. I don't--." He paused, as if wondering if he should continue his train of thought. "I don't know if I can continue to go to these—conventions with Emerson," he finally relented.

"Then don't," Olive said quickly. If Ned was double thinking all of the time he had been spending with Emerson Codd, then she would do what she could to help him stop.

The Pie Maker shook his head. "I have to."

"Ned, you're exhausted. You're running on an abnormal clock. Maybe it's time you take a break."

"We need the money."

Olive sighed. "Then—then--." She looked around the room, trying to come up with an alternative so Ned wouldn't run himself into the ground. Obviously, these conventions were taking a toll on him, in some way, even if he wouldn't admit it. "Then---let me go with Emerson instead."

It wasn't exactly an ideal alternative, for that would mean that she was still spending less time with The Pie Maker, but if that put him in a happier, better (and more lively) mood. Then maybe their time together would increase.

"No!"

The Pie Maker spoke so quickly that Olive was nearly pushed back into her chair by the force of his voice.

Olive quirked her head to the side, with Ned stood suddenly. "Ned, just let me help."  
He shook his head, his voice softening as he spoke. "You are helping, Olive. By staying here and looking after everything."

"Ned, I just--."

"Please Olive," he said, his eyes begging for Olive's understanding.

There was silence.

"I'll finish up in here, if you'd like. You can head home," the Pie Maker said after a moment.

There was silence again as the two stared at one another.

Finally Olive lowered her head and looked at her hands. "If that's what you really want."

Ned nodded, though it was resigned and defeated. "It is," he said, placing his hand atop Olive's.

Olive nodded and collected her things, before she made her way towards the door.

"Goodnight, Ned," she said.

Ned finished putting their used chairs back on the tables before he turned to Olive. He smiled at her shyly. "Goodnight, Olive," he replied.

Olive ducked her head against the air outside and quickly put on her jacket; it was surprisingly cool for the summer night.

Instead of making way straight for her apartment, Olive paused outside, looking in the window of The Pie Hole through the drawn blinds. She watched as The Pie Maker cleaned up his restaurant. Occasionally he would pause and turn to Digby, and Olive swore he would say something to the K-9. She felt relieved to know she wasn't the only one who spoke to him.

Olive sighed, continuing in her vigil as she watched The Pie Maker clean. Despite his assurance that she was helping, Olive still felt defeated. She wanted to help more. She wanted to be with The Pie Maker more. She wanted what they had had. Going out to dinner after work, walking home, receiving a simple kiss goodnight. She wanted to know that he trusted her, like she had come to believe; instead of this reserved Ned that she hadn't seen since she first started working at The Pie Hole.

Olive sighed in frustration. "Why am I such a mess?" she wondered.

And though she asked herself the question, Olive had a feeling that she already knew the answer.

Ever since she had first met The Pie Maker, Olive had been drawn in. Like a moth to a flame. She had wanted to know everything about him, and she was happy to say that she slowly had been. It had been like reading a book, _The Life and Times of The Pie Maker_, each page had been a new something to learn. But now, here she was left out in the night, alone.

But it was more then just wanting to get to know Ned. Over their time together Olive had felt her instant attraction to him intensify. She had become so accustomed to the racing of her heart when he walked into a room that she hardly noticed that it happen any more. She was used to her erratic breathing that she was certain she could only breathe that way from now on.

With each passing of the day Olive had found herself falling farther and farther into the great depths that were Ned the Pie Maker. But she had thought, and hoped, that when she had found herself at this point of infatuation she wouldn't be standing alone; like she was now.

But she was. A woman in love, watching the man of her affection clean, an entire building between them.

Olive froze. A woman—_in love_. She felt the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She was a woman in love. She loved Ned. She loved The Pie Maker.

She felt her breath hitch and her heart rate quicken.

And then, just as quickly as she had made her realization, Olive Snook had an idea.

A light bulb had gone off.

* * *

Olive Snook set the spaghetti on the table.

"This looks amazing," The Pie Maker said.

"Thank you," Olive replied, smiling brightly.

It was three days after Olive had made her realization, and she was setting her plan into action. After realizing that she had fallen in love with The Pie Maker, Olive had decided that, perhaps, this news would help her win back the attention she had lost to Emerson Codd.

After all, what was it that Baroness Schrader had said? _Nothing is more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him._

While this had been awful news to poor, innocent Fraulein Maria, it was not awful news to Olive Snook. Fraulein Maria was going to become a nun. And Olive Snook was not---ever.

So she had invited Ned over to her apartment for a meal, where she would tell him that she loved him. And all of her inherent problems would be fixed—in some way or another.

"You didn't have to do this."

Olive waved her hand, brushing away Ned's comment. "It's no big deal. Besides," she said with a shrug. "I wanted to."

The Pie Maker forked up some noodles and took a large bite. "It's delicious," he said after swallowing.

Olive beamed, "Thank you."

They ate in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging words; enjoying each others company.

When their plates were nearly cleared, Olive decided it was time to make her move.

"Ned?"

"Hm?"

Olive fidgeted slightly, suddenly feeling nervous. Even though she had a plan, that didn't make the execution any easier. "There's um—well, there's something I'd uh, like to tell you."

The Pie Maker tilted his head to the side. "What is it?"

"Well, I--." Before Olive could go any further there was a knock on her door. Both Olive and Ned turned towards the door before looking back at eachother.

"Are you going to--?" Ned asked, nodding towards the door.

"I--," Olive looked back and forth between Ned and the door. She needed to tell him, tell him now, before she lost her nerve.

There was a knock again.

She groaned. When she planned to tell Ned that she loved him, she didn't plan on knocking to be her choice of background music. "I'll be right back," she said, quickly getting up and walking away.

"Can I help you?" She asked, opening the door before she instantly froze, not at all liking the sight of Emerson Codd standing before her. _Not now._ "What?" she asked, before she could censor herself.

"Where's Pie Boy?" Emerson asked.

"Not here," Olive said just as Ned stepped forward saying: "Emerson?"

Olive sighed and dropped her head. Emerson laughed. "We've gotta go," he said.

"Now?" Olive asked.

"Yes, _now_," Emerson replied.

Olive scowled. She looked to Ned.

"Can we finish some other time?" The Pie Maker asked.

Olive felt her heart sink. "Okay," she said quietly, knowing that nothing she said would stop the Pie Maker from leaving. Unless, of course, she uttered the words she wished to, and she was _not_ going to do that in front of one Emerson Codd.

The two men quickly left, leaving Olive alone in her apartment, with Digby sitting on her couch.

As she slammed her apartment door, frustration soaring through her like wild fire, Olive Snook became aware of two things.

One, she was becoming a desperate woman.

And two…Emerson Codd was a man hog.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well there's chapter twelve. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Until next time!


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